Timmy H Interrogation
by Booker C. Dewitt
Summary: Timmy wakes up everytime the seawater turns on, burning his eyes, choking him as the pain from where his wrists hang in handcuffs grows more and more intense. He can't tell Ryan about Fontaine. God knows that, but Ryan don't. He can do what he pleases with Timmy, and he will. But whatever torture Sullivan can cook up for his sick enjoyment, Fontaine will do double.
1. Interrogation

**'Timmy H. Interrogation' is based off the audio diary in Bioshock of the same name. I suggest listening to it first, it might make the experience better.**

The water brought me back into the world of pain. The salt seeped into the burns on my wrists where I hung from handcuffs. I shuddered awake, the freezing sea water making my entire body numb, but not numb enough. I shivered again, and the handcuffs dug deeper into the cuts on my wrists. A groan escaped me and my sharp intake was enough to make me start hacking violently. I coughed up sea water, and the pain from my wrists clouded my vision, even more so than the spray. _Two days_. 2 days they had left me like this, hanging from pipes in a lower wharf cell. The water came on every few hours, so I wouldn't get used to it, I suppose. The water sunk into my clothes, making my teeth chatter. It was early morning, I was sure of it. Light was starting to grow towards my cell, never to warm my body, but to let me clearly see my prison.

No.

The light was orange, more like... A lamp?

I stained against my restraints to see, and almost passed out. I took shuddering breaths, fighting sleep, cold, and pain. The lamp was definitely getting closer. Soon enough I could see two figures.

I recognized one of them.

 _Please_ , I thought. _Sullivan, kill me._ I let my head hang limp, while still wincing through chattering teeth. I was getting more numb, this was good. I heard the click of my cell's lock, filled with relief. _Fontaine won't have me anymore._

My vision started to fade again, when I felt a strong clamp bite into my leg. I cried out, but to no response. More cold force sparked pain receptors as Sullivan attached another metal one near the base of my neck. Colder water splashed on my face, bringing me to full consciousness. Sullivan had leaned towards my face, and seeing I was now awake, straitened up. "You've been down here quite a while Timmy," he prompted, studying me. I didn't say anything. The clamps pushed me down even further, pulling at my skin and making blood run down from my wrists. My vision was clouded with tears, but I would not let any wails escape my lips. I traced the wires attached to the clamps to Sullivan's companion, who was holding the other ends as he stood next to a metal box, a battery.

The water suddenly made my body feel a whole lot heavier. I clenched my teeth and glared at Sullivan,

I knew what he wanted, and I wouldn't give it to him.

I _couldn't_ give it to him.

"I can't," I mumbled, feeling more and more helpless. "Sullivan, WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?" I breathed hard, this was _his_ fault. "Fontaine... He-" my head fell limp again, and I just stared at my dangling feet. "Please don't do this. Sullivan... _please_. Just kill me now, I'm begging you."

I heard a click on the table and I pulled my heavy head up, whimpering as the water moved my wrists farther into the handcuff's metal. I looked up at Sullivan to find an ounce of mercy, but his face was one of stone.

"Mr Ryan asked me personally to make this clear to you;" Sullivan said curtly,

"you give us Fontaine, and this whole filthy ring of his, and you'll be knocking back pints up at the Fighting McDonaghs." I let my head fall against my chest as my breathing quickened. I imagined what Fontaine would do if I told them.

"But if you prefer to play the mule, we'll _treat_ you like a mule."

My heartbeat thundered in my ears and fear sliced through me as the cords attached to the clamp shifted. I looked at my tormentor as he pinched the clamps open, ready to attach them to the battery. He ignored my pleading eyes.

"Give him a taste, Patrick."

Electricity coursed into my body. Setting a raging fire beneath my skin. My entire body shook violently as I let out a scream of pure agony. The seconds felt like hours as the electricity seemed to burn the muscles underneath my skin, the blood cells pushed to burst my veins. And my screams only grew louder, as the water pouring over me made the pain more intense.

"Huh?" Sullivan asked through my screams. Patrick lifted the clamps. "What's that?"

I took in one breath before I started screaming again. The second of water pouring over me made the second course of voltage seem even more painful, black rimmed my vision and all my energy seemed to pour out with my howls of anguish.

"Change of heart Timmy?"

Patrick turned the electricity off, but my body still twitched and shook violently as the pain felt like someone was raking knives down the inside of my skin. I moaned with each exhale, breathing hard.

" _Timmy_?"

I whimpered from the pain.

"Ready to talk now?'

I took in deep shaky breaths before I spat at him, "Go on Sullivan, go on and do your dirty." I sucked in some blood that started to spill from my mouth. "Whatever Ryan thinks he can do to me," my breathing quickened as I shouted, " _Fontaine can do double!_ " I glared at Sullivan's face, this time barely noticing the same clicking sound from before they started torturing me. I did notice as Sullivan nodded to his companion, who put the clamps back on the battery. I started to scream and twitch again, shifting the shackles and rattling the pipes above me. Sullivan smiled at me, "This battery has got enough energy to last a day, not enough voltage to kill you, but maybe to give you PTSD." He laughed in my face, but all I could do was continue screaming, pleading for mercy with my eyes. "We'll be back again in a few days, but until then have some water." He opened a bottle and poured the water into my mouth, after I managed to swallow my howls grew even louder, and more blood poured from my lips. I remained conscious enough to watch Sullivan and Patrick leave, then my eyes rolled into the back of my head as the pain finally knocked me into darkness.


	2. Pain

Pain was all I knew.

I woke up every time the water turned on. Screaming to no one, looking for help where there was none. My voice became hoarse, and then it was gone. My howls were replaced by inaudible breaths. I hung there, twitching in silent agony. I no longer felt in my wrists, it was replaced by a constant internal pain. Hunger set fire to my stomach, and the electricity seemed to rip it to shreds over and over and over again. My skin bubbled from the energy, allowing water to seep through, bringing salt and voltage deeper into my flesh. I could see steam rising up from my skin and my body thrashed even more. But these movements were not my own, I was not in control of my body, or my mind. I could only feel the pain knowing it would soon pull me back under.

I don't know how long it was before I noticed the water no longer added to the agony. The clamps still dug into my skin, but electricity no longer crackled along the tips. My internal muscles and organs still felt like they were being shredded and burned, but the pain didn't increase. My body stopped shaking and relaxed, I moaned in agony as the overworked and stiffened muscles returned to a normal state. The pain might not have been as intense, but I was completely conscious of it now. The internal torment squeezed at my heart and lungs, each breath felt like a needle dragged along my ribs and I began to weep as the twinge grew more and more sharp. Blood still filled up my mouth and I began to cough it up, spitting out blood and seawater as they burned my throat. I looked up at my wrists and saw that the skin had scabbed onto the handcuffs, the metal was drenched in blood. Tilting my head sent flashing white lights across my vision, my wooziness and aching body sent my consciousness right back under.


	3. A Visitor

Click.

Whirrrll.

"Mr. Ryan asked me personally to make this clear to you-"

I jolted awake, moaning at the soreness of my body and the gashes in my wrists. I breathed hard, failing to pull my head up. "Sullivan? Sullivan, please, no, don't hurt me, not again..." The voice continued as if I hadn't said anything at all.

"But if you prefer to play the mule, we'll treat you like a mule..."

I didn't know why he was repeating himself, but it didn't matter. I couldn't experience that again. "PLEASE. Please no... Don't, don't-"

"... a taste, Patrick."

My muscles tensed, waiting for the agony to corse through my body, but it never did.

And yet I was screaming in pain nevertheless.

But I wasn't.

The sounds of my torture was enough to whip my head up, but instead of seeing the faces of Sullivan and Patrick, I saw a black-haired man in light blue suspenders and a white button up shirt crouching in front of something; an audio diary.

That son of a bitch.

The audio diary ended with me shouting at Sullivan, and I took in a shuddering breath, remembering the hours of pain that followed. Of course Sullivan would record his 'work' as entertainment.

"Who the hell are you?" My voice was still hoarse from screaming, and I tried to hide the fear with a demanding tone. The man just held up his hand to silence me, and pressed play on the audio diary again. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, fighting to push down the fear and anxiety Sullivan's words caused. I remembered their inhumanity, how Sullivan seemed to enjoy my pain. I shivered and cringed as my screams played back at me.

 _"Ready to talk now?"_

I didn't want to remember the pain. I didn't want to remember anything. I wanted someone to put a bullet in my head, so I wouldn't have to endure anything any more, present or past. Hunger twisted my stomach and I exhaled sharply. The man in the suspenders stayed in his crouched position for another beat, as if he were pondering something.

 _Please don't play the tape again._

He didn't, only nodded to himself as he stood up. He stepped towards me, the shadows of the room making his blue eyes seem cold and unforgiving.

Or maybe they already were.

The man came closer to my limp body, and I started to shake involuntarily. I winced, but the man just grinned, putting his hands out as if to tame a wild animal.

"Calm down, boyo. I just want to talk."

His accent was nothing like my earlier torturers, Irish opposed to New York, but I grimaced all the same, remembering Sullivan.

 _Ready to talk now?_

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Who are you." I opened my eyes to see the man grin again, I could see he was enjoying this. "The names Atlas, kid. I'm with Ryan. I just want to know a few things about Fontaine." I swallowed again, a sense of dread churning between my ribs. "I can't tell you."

"You are determined, aren't you? Don't worry lad, I just want to know what makes you so loyal to him."

I shifted nervously, causing pain to flare in my wrists. It seemed an answerable question, but would Fontaine think so? I bit at the inside of my cheek, and reluctantly stared at Atlas, remaining silent. Atlas's eyes hardened at my restraint, but his sly smile remained on his face. "Now now, I'm _positive_ Fontaine will be fine with these questions. But if you won't cooperate, I might have to revert back to... older methods," he gestured to the audio diary, "we wouldn't want that, would we?"

My breathing quickened as I glanced at the battery I was attached to. I started shivering again, fighting back the pain I remembered. "Please don't..." I fought back a sob of desperation and took in a few deep breaths. "I-I'll... I'll tell you."

"There's a good man. Now, why would you go through that-" he nodded to the audio diary, "-for him?"

I stared at the device for a few more seconds, and the memories made me talk.

"Fontaine..." I took in a shaky breath, choosing my words carefully, "Fontaine isn't just a criminal, he's a genius." That made Atlas smile for some reason, I took it as a good sign and moved on as carefully as possible. "He's got a whole army of recruits without ever having to shake a hand, he said the word contraband, and... We- we were all on his side. We blindly followed the man for the material, failed to notice his violent acts because we didn't WANT to. Then a few tried to... walk away, and they'd be lucky if they were found dead the next the morning. His smuggling ring was a front for us to become pawns in his game. He wasn't a smuggler under our demand, he was our puppet master, and we realized that the most dangerous man in Rapture walks around without having anyone know who the hell he is!" Atlas's eyes flickered. "What do you mean?"

"No one knows what he's _really_ like. Sure, a name is enough for most people, but Fontaine's not an idiot. Ryan is after him. Ryan doesn't know him either, he can move through the cracks of Rapture as he pleases. How easy would it be to just slip into another name with assistance of a wig or a new accent!"

I didn't see the anger beginning to blaze in Atlas's eyes, I was rambling. Even I thought so, but I continued, I was excited now.

"I'm sure Fontaine has got alter egos all over the place! A new name and a simple story is all you need down here! Hell! He could even be you!"

I immediately regretted my words as Atlas stiffened in rage.

There was a moment of silence, I couldn't speak. The way Atlas stared at me made me afraid, very afraid.

"I-I didn't mean that, I swear... Atlas-"

I stopped as he put a hand on my right shoulder, squeezing on my collarbone and pushing into my raw skin. I clenched my teeth as I felt the strong force.

"Oh boyo." He said flatly.

He looked me right in the eyes.

"You're going to wish you didn't say that."

His body twisted back as he came around to punch me with full force, and pain exploded from my abdomen. Blood sputtered from my mouth, I could no longer breathe. I gasped for air, and Atlas punched me in the stomach again. My head lurched forward as it fell onto my chest, the blows knocking me out.


	4. Burn

I awoke slowly, looking up from my dangling feet with hazy eyes. I spotted a blurry figure crouched with his back turned to me. I blinked a few times, trying to make my vision clearer. Who was he? Where was I? Why did my body ache? I searched for something to trigger my memories of what had happened. My eyes swept the cell, stopping dead at the battery next to me. My breathing quickened as everything flooded back.

Sullivan.

The torture.

Atlas.

I began to feel the intense soreness in my stomach where he had punched me.

"He could even be you!"

Oh god, why did I say anything in the first place?

My eyes flitted quickly back to the figure by the cell door. He seemed to be sifting through a bag of his, looking for something. I let out a small sob as he put a battery on the floor beside him.

My sound made Atlas turn to me, he looked from me to the box and patted it lightly. "Remember him?"

I whimpered ever so slightly as the past pain seemed to prickle along my skin, the clamps seemed to squeeze even harder.

"Please..." I swallowed, "Don't- don't use that thing." My voice was shaky, I couldn't take my eyes off the box. Atlas stared at me for a second, then he scoffed and continued searching. "A fistful of electricity and you're THIS shattered? Guess that's less work for me."

"A DAY!" I shouted, my breaths quickened. "They left me... with that thing on... for a day."

Atlas's posture became rigid again. "Careful now."

I clenched my teeth, hating myself for lashing out. If I could just keep my mouth shut-

"You will never do worse than Fontaine, never."

Atlas pulled something out from his bag. He stood and turned to me, his eyes flashed dangerously. "Are you sure kid?"

In his hand was a thick syringe containing a red liquid.

 _A Plasmid._

My eyes widened and I started to struggle in my bonds, letting out a cry as the rattling moved the flesh within my wrists. Atlas stared at my shackled hands for a moment, a sinister smile barely beginning to creep onto his face when his eyes focused back on me. He held the plasmid up, studying it. "You know what this is?"

I stared at him in fear, scared of what my answer might trigger.

"Powerful stuff Plasmids," Atlas answered for me. "One of Fontaine's best inventions, if I do say so me-self. Painful too, if you know how to use them right."

He glanced up at my wrists again, making my body tense. I wanted to hide my hands behind my back, I didn't like the way he stared at them. But I couldn't. He was going to hurt me, and I couldn't do anything stop it. I felt like I was with Fontaine again, at his mercy and fearing anything I did may push him over the edge.

Atlas waited for my eyes to turn back to the plasmid, pausing a beat before he stabbed the needle into his forearm, exhaling as he emptied the syringe and drew it out of of his arm.

I winced as he stuck it into himself, and I watched his hand quaver as red soon traced his veins up to his finger tips, which glowed red.

 _Incinerate._

Now I was shaking.

Atlas threw the syringe aside, moving so he was only a foot away from me.

"Now lad, to who else have you told your little theory?"

I faltered, "N-no one. I... I was just rambling."

Atlas glared at me. "I don't believe you."

"It's true I... W- what are you doing?"

Atlas reached toward my right handcuff, cupping his hand near the metal and my scabs. I watched in terror as his hands started to glow, I felt the intense heat on the palm of my hand. "Atlas stop! Please! I'm telling the truth! I swear!"

His stare was petrifying, and his hand only moved closer to my shackles. They started to steam, burning at my scabs and the skin around the cuffs, making me gasp in pain. The metal heated the scabs until they began to melt away, and blood flowed down my arms freely, sizzling against the metal. The sudden blood loss made me feel woozy, but as the metal buried in my skin began to glow a faint orange colour, I became very aware.

I screamed in pain as the handcuffs burned at my skin, pouring intense heat into my bloody wrists. Every cell in my body was telling my hand to move, but I couldn't. I shook violently against my shackles, but the heat just stabbed further into my skin.

I screamed and cried, begging Atlas to take his hand away, but he didn't even flinch. His unwavering cold stare drilled into me, and his hand began to flame, making the handcuff turn neon orange.

Tears ran down my face and I screamed louder than I ever had before. My skin bubbled and burst, turning from a bloody purple to scorched black, as the metal burned through my skin and began to burst the veins within my wrist.

I couldn't think through the pain, and my body refused to be knocked out, making me experience every bit of agony Atlas had to offer.

"WHO DID YOU TELL?" He shouted over my screams. His voice hardened, and his accent seemed to fade, but I didn't notice, the burning metal had started to drip onto my forearm.

My body writhed, the nerves triggering explosions of pain as each drop burned holes into my skin, leaving streaks of purple tissue behind. I needed to tell him to stop, that I hadn't told anyone, but my lips only released screams, and each time the metal released a droplet, agony destroyed any train of thought. Hot blooded poured onto the tissue, making it burn even more. I begged for mercy with my tear filled eyes, Atlas met my gaze and let the metal burn into my arm for a few more seconds, watching as my head rolled back and I howled in agony, before slowly the glow in his hand began to fade, and he walked in front of me. My head fell to my chest, my eyelids barely fluttering open as tears continued to pour from my eyes. My gouged wrist numbed from the internal damage, my hand charred and purple. Blood began to trickle from where my nails dug into my palm, and I cried out as the handcuff still dripped onto my arm. I drew in deep, shuddering breaths as the metal began to cool, whimpering at my raw flesh.

"Hey, _hey!_ " Atlas snapped his fingers under my nose, conjuring up a small flame. I jerked my head away, my wounds shifted, and I screamed once more. I turned my head against my left and began to weep softly.

"Look at me."

My eyes moved to meet Atlas's in a cowardly jerks, I swallowed as I looked into the face of my tormentor.

"Who. did. you. tell." His face was not one that I wanted to share my answer with, but I couldn't say anything else.

"No one. I only talked to you. I- I swear. Please... _please_ stop."

"Why do you keep on lying, huh?" He tilted his head to glare at me, "you give me the truth, or I give your left hand the treatment."

I began to shake in fear as Atlas stepped closer to my left. "Why..." Atlas raised an eyebrow condescendingly, "Why what?"

"Why does it... matter?"

Atlas stopped abruptly.

He looked at the wall beside me, I watched as fire ran up his hands, soon snuffed out by his clenched fists. I flinched when he turned on his heels and looked into my face again. "You wanna know why I'm asking boyo?" He said softly.

I gave a shaky nod.

Whatever kept him talking.

Atlas looked up and chuckled softly. "You're a smart one aren't you? If only they had people like you on Ryan's team, it might even out the odds for them."

I exhaled sharply as my arm sent pain cutting into me. I almost missed what was off about his statement.

"...Them?"

Atlas smirked. "That's right lad, I'm not on Ryan's side. So why would I be interrogating you?"

I closed my eyes, sucking in breaths through clenched teeth. I tried to get my fuzzy brain to think.

I stayed dormant for a few moments,

Then my eyes shot open.

"No, _no_..." I trembled.

"Spit it out." I could hear the Bronx seeping into his Irish accent. My breathing sped up rapidly and shakily.

"You're..."

Atlas crossed his arms.

"You're F- Fontaine."

"That's right kid, this is the new me." He gestured down at himself. "And I'm afraid I can't have people like you fucking it up." He dropped the Irish facade, speaking to me in the rough accent I knew all to well.

I closed my eyes, fear coursing threw me as I shook my head. "Plea... Please, let me- let me go. I didn't say anything to Sullivan, I'm- I'm not going to. I've been here four... four days Fontaine. I don't want them to torture me again, please... I can't do anything to make them stop, because I can't tell them. Please, I swear I won't tell anyone."

I looked up at Fontaine, but he just shook his head.

"Sorry kid, but you know what they say,"

He conjured up flames in both hands, I began to kick and struggle with all my might.

"curiosity killed the cat."

"Please..." I begged,

Fontaine lifted up both hands and fire ejected from his palms.

The flames clawed into my abdomen, raking up my arms and legs, gnawing at my face and wrists as if trying to dig through to my insides. I screamed and wailed, the thick smoke coating my throat and chocking me. I coughed until I couldn't breathe, smoke and pain triggering tears in my eyes. I could feel my skin bubbling into blisters and melting away, the pain was everywhere. Burning, clawing, melting. But the torture was the most intense as it seared into my face. The last I saw of the world was Fontaine and his grim, unmoving expression. Then my eyes molded shut as the skin of my forehead and cheeks began to bleed hot blood down my eyes and along my neck, I screamed for him to stop as he burned me alive. I howled in suffering, twisting and kicking, but the flames only grew bigger. I hacked more violently than ever, the smoke tightening around my windpipe until it finally squeezed the consciousness out of me.

My burned and raw face fell forward for the last time, Fontaine let the plasmid burn into my skin for another minute, but it was clear I would not be moving again. Fontaine lowered his hands and went to grab the battery, attaching my lifeless body too it. Sullivan would come and realize my death was his fault. My charred corpse twitched and shook from the voltage, Fontaine walked out of my cell with his plan ready to be set in motion, and nothing to stop him from it.


	5. There is Always a Man

"Elizabeth... I'm sorry"

Booker placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to bring her some comfort as her only contact to the world sunk into the depths of the sea.

The songbird had been her captor, but at least it had been THERE.

That was more than Comstock could say.

Elizabeth watched silently as the mechanical bird sank into the depths of the sea, stiffening as its crushed black body melted into the dark blue.

Her face was paler than ever before as she turned to face Booker, her eyes wide.

"Elizabeth, you alright?"

"The screaming."

"What?"

"He's screaming. They're hurting him."

"Who?"

Booker pulled the shotgun from his back, scanning the terrain. "Where are we?" He demanded.

Elizabeth clutched her ears, ducking her head. "Stop it! Stop! You're torturing him!"

"There is nothing here Elizabeth!" Booker shouted angrily, mostly because of his confusion. They were in an underwater city, yes. But blocking out the many question that came packing with that statement, he could focus on the fact that the area they were in was clearly empty.

"He's in pain, I need to make them stop!"

"You need to... What?"

Booker glanced back behind him. The girl he was supposed to be protecting was gone.

"Elizabeth?!"

A door swung rapidly farther off, and Booker ran in the direction of Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth we don't know who this person is! I don't even know where we are!"

He raced after her, barely noticing the beautiful view and the weird clown vending machines. They could be running into a trap. Elizabeth could get captured again...

Was she too powerful for that?

The way she had spread her arms into this new world, killed the songbird without losing an ounce of strength.

Damn it, how was he supposed to protect this stubborn girl?

Booker shook his head, instead opting to focus on the matter at hand. He strained to hear the sound of Elizabeth's heels, she was getting father away.

Booker rounded corner after corner, looking around cautiously. Soon the stone floor turned abruptly to wood planks as he came into a large room. There was a glowing sign outlining 'Fontaine Fisheries', he was in some sort of market area.

By now the sound of footsteps had disappeared, and Booker looked around attentively, searching for Elizabeth and any threats.

"Where'd you go Elizabeth?" Booker called.

"Down here." Her voice was close but muffled, choked.

Booker ran down the staircase and through a twisty corridor, splashing through puddles that where beginning to build up on the floor. He stopped short as he saw Elizabeth next to a blackened figure in a cell.

He walked through the open gates, unconsciously wondering how she had opened the four digit lock. The cell was big enough for 3 people, dark with only crates to act as tables. The figure hanging from chains was connected to the only item on the crates, a battery.

Booker stood in the cell, watching as tears rolled down Elizabeth's face. She pressed her right palm against the charred corpses cheek, her left fist clenched as she mouthed something to the figure

 _'I am so sorry'._

"They won't stop." She said softly to Booker. "He's in so much pain."

"Elizabeth, this man is dead."

Elizabeth turned to Booker, her face streaked with the stains of her tears. "No. No, I can still hear them, I can hear him begging them to stop."

"Elizabeth, even if he was alive, this man did something to get here, and it ain't our place to jump into others business. Especially not people who do that." Booker gestured to the battery, Elizabeth just stared at it, her eyes spilling over with tears. "Come on Elizabeth, we've got business to attend to." Booker pulled lightly at her shoulder, but she stayed in place, entranced by the battery.

"He's pleading." She whispered. "I can't block out his screams."

"Elizabeth, don't-"

She spread her arms into a new world, as the white light faded, screaming thundered into Bookers eardrums. Spine chilling screams, but he'd heard them all before.


	6. Memories

The man that had once been lifeless now twitched and shook with the currents of electricity running through him, blood streamed from his wrists and chest. "Shit." Booker cursed, pulling out his shotgun once more. The cell he was now in was the same, but the door was locked and electricity now cackled from the large battery.

He looked for any enemy to train his gun on, but it appeared that the man's torturers had just left him to suffer. Elizabeth's fist clenched and she squeezed her eyes shut against the screaming. "We should leave." Booker tried, but she shook her head, she grasped at the clamps attached to the battery, grunting as she tried to pull them off. "Goddamnit," Booker muttered as he took the clamps off for her.

He stepped back and let them fall to the floor, pushing Elizabeth gently behind him as he waited for the man to calm down.

The prisoner continued to scream in pain for another minute, Booker watched as the man's muscles twitched violently from the electricity that had entered his body. The man's head soon dropped to his chest as his screaming quieted, he began to moan and whimper in agony. He tried to look up at Booker, but a hacking fit overcame him. He coughed up blood, his body shaking violently from the spell, he screamed again as his hanging form swayed. Booker glanced up at the fresh blood dripping from the man's hand cuffs,

That was an easy weakness.

Booker shook his head, switching out his shotgun for his broadsider pistol. This man was reminding him of his Pinkerton days, there was something familiar about him.

The Pinkerton Agency had trained him to push people gently, provide them with opportunities to explain themselves in a 'safe' environment.

But Booker had never been one for talking, the quicker way to an answer was pain. Find where the pain was most intense, and you'll get what you want.

 _We're not interrogating this man,_ Booker reminded himself, _Elizabeth wants to save him._

He'd done a lot of saving recently.

Booker's attention was drawn back to the man in chains as his sputtering and whimpering quieted, he finally managed to pull his head up to face Booker and Elizabeth. As the man's eyes met Bookers' they widened, his body began to shake in fear. "No, no, no. I can't-" the prisoner's voice hitched. "Please not again."

Elizabeth stepped softly to Bookers side. "We're not going to hurt you."

The man looked to Elizabeth in fear, "Who is she?" he stuttered. His gaze turned back to Booker, "What are you going to do with me?"

"We're not going to do anything to you." Elizabeth promised, Booker saw tears begin to glint in her eyes.

"Please Dewitt, you know I can't tell you, just- just leave me alone." The man continued to plead, Booker's eyes narrowed. He cocked his pistol.

"How do you know my name?"

The man's look of fear became mixed with confusion. "Y... you told me," he mumbled, "before you started to..." His eyes fixed to the battery and his breaths quickened, remembering.

Booker glanced to Elizabeth for an explanation, But she looked just as confused.

He didn't do anything to this man.

Did he?

"Elizabeth, what does he mean, I've never been here before." Booker asked firmly.

Elizabeth searched his eyes, as if looking to see if he was lying. She swallowed and turned to an object leaning against the crate beside her, Booker watched as she took a deep breath and pushed a button. The crackle that sounded was similar to a Voxophone, he thought. They must have those down here.

"Ryan hired me personally to make this clear to you." Booker's voice rang out from the recording.

The man's body stiffened, he looked from the device to Booker. "You... You recorded it?" He closed his eyes in a grimace, "Oh god."

Booker stared at the recording, entranced, as flashes of a memory flooded over him.

 _Booker hefted the heavy bag further up his arm as he went to punch in the cell's key code. Ryan himself had came to Booker earlier today, saying he needed 'someone with experience' to get some information from one of Fontaine's men._

 _To anyone else Booker would've explained how the process worked for a fired Pinkerton, but the look in Ryan's eyes made it clear. He would do what it took to keep his city running, and as long as Booker got paid, he would help._

 _The lock rang out quietly with correct code, the cell bars slid to the side of the wall. Timmy hung unconscious, knocked out or resting, as water poured over his bruised and bloodied body. Booker stepped closer to the figure, dropping his bag beside a crate next to to Timmy. He studied the man, he was average height, his feet didn't touch the ground. Average build, not too strong. An easy target to break, unless he had a motive._

 _Booker studied him a bit longer._

He wouldn't have a motive _, he decided. He'd fallen into Fontaine's grip, and got caught by Ryan, his only motive would be fear._

 _Booker's job was to make sure that fear was towards Ryan._

 _"Timmy." Booker said firmly, "Wake up."_

 _He pushed the man's shoulder, making Timmy's body sway._

 _Timmy jolted awake, letting out a cry of pain. He coughed up the water he inhaled, shivering at the cold. His fit quieted, but he continued to shake from the water as he glared at Booker._

 _"Who are you?"_

 _"It's Dewitt, Timmy."_

 _Booker watched him swallow at the dominance he inserted into Timmy's name._

I'm on familiar grounds _, Booker thought._

 _"What do you want?" Timmy demanded, he searched his cell for any companions, his eyes lingering on Booker's bag._

 _"I'm here to offer you a pardon, all I need is the location of Fontaine and his men."_

 _Booker laid out a solution for Timmy, Pinkerton training, but people where never that easy._

 _"Sorry to waste your time." Timmy said derisively._

 _Ryan hadn't offered a pardon anyway._

Booker stumbled back, gripping his forehead as the memories pierced into his brain. "Booker?" Elizabeth asked, "What happened?"

"Timmy," Booker muttered.

Elizabeth reached out and grabbed his arm, his heel hit the clamp on the floor, and another snippet overcame him.

 _"What's that?" Timmy shifted nervously, as Booker pulled out a gray, metal box from his bag on the floor. Booker didn't respond, instead laying it on the crate and pulling out a red and a blue cord with clamps on each end. Timmy's eyes widened as he studied the box and the wires, but he didn't say anything. Booker took a clamp from each wire, he stood up and turned to Timmy._

 _The man's eyes searched Booker's face, his body trembled slightly as Booker stepped towards him. Timmy clenched his jaw and stared Booker in the eye, refusing to back down._

 _"I can't tell you. Fontaine he- he'll murder me."_

 _"I can do a lot worse." Booker promised, and he attached a large, heavy clamp to Timmy's chest._

 _He let out a breath of pain, he inhaled sharply as it pulled and dug into his skin._

 _"No-" Timmy started, but instead cried out as Booker let the second clamp close onto the skin of his leg. He gritted his teeth, breathing heavily as the weight caused blood to run down from his wrists._

 _"No," Timmy spat, "you can't."_

 _"Really?" Booker pushed him again._

 _Timmy screamed, the handcuffs cutting into his wrists with the swaying of his body. Pain clouded his eyes, and Booker went back to setting up the interrogation. He pulled out a new audio diary, Ryan had asked that he record the scene, for inspection. Booker wasn't going to get any information out of Timmy today, he had to break him first._

 _Plus, it meant extra pay._

 _Booker pushed a button on the audio diary. He stood, dragging the second set of clamps up with him._

 _Timmy looked up in fear, he opened his mouth to say something when a rattling in the pipes made his chains shake. His eyes rolled back as pain overwhelmed him._

 _"Last chance, Timmy." Booker offered._

 _"Give Ryan the line on Fontaine, and you'll be a free man."_

 _Timmy's head fell back down to stare at him, his eyes pleaded, but he didn't say anything. He knew what was coming._

 _"But if you want to make my life difficult, I'm gonna have to return the favor. Y_ _our call. What gets reported back to the boss?"_

 _Timmy's jaw quavered. He turned his head._

 _Booker made a_ tsk _sound, pinching the clamps open. Timmy tensed, Booker let him wait a beat before he let the clamps fall onto the battery. Immediately Timmy began to scream and writhe in agony, Booker stepped back and watched._

 _His head rolled back and he howled in pain, the clamps attached to Timmy's shaking body sparked with electricity._

 _Booker let him scream for three seconds, "What's that Timmy?" Booker asked coldly. He took the clamps off, the moment Timmy stopped screaming he placed them back on, it increased the pain. "Timmy? Ready to talk now?" His voice rose over the howls of agony. He took the clamps off, letting them drop to the floor._

 _Timmy moaned in short bursts, breathing hard and shakily as his body continued to twitch violently. He whimpered from the torture._

 _Timmy caught his breath, the pain subsiding enough for him to speak._

 _"Go on Dewitt," Timmy spat, "go on and do your dirty." His fists clenched as he fought back a moan of agony. "Whatever Ryan thinks he can do to me," he strained against his bonds, "FONTAINE CAN DO DOUBLE!"_

 _Timmy fell back into his normal position, clenching his fists as he glared at Booker. He waited for his response._

 _Booker smiled coldly, pressing the button again on the audio diary with his foot. Timmy doesn't notice, as Booker stepped closer, making Timmy look up at him. Booker stared down at Timmy mercilessly, noticing as he swallowed in fear. "I ain't Ryan, Timmy;"_

 _He stared at Booker, unmoving._

 _"and I sure as hell got more history than Fontaine."_

 _Timmy clenched his jaw, but his breaths became quick and hard again as Booker bent down to pick up the clamps. A small sob escaped him._

 _Booker sidestepped back over to the battery, and Timmy began to shake in fear. "Please..." He pleaded,_

 _"Where's Fontaine?"_

 _"I can't... I can't tell you."_

 _Timmy stared at the ground in front of him. His eyes moved to Booker's, and Dewitt shook his head._

 _"You're gonna have to do better than that." He let the clamps fall back on the battery, and the cell filled with screams of pain once more._


	7. Constants

Booker flinched, breathing heavily as he recovered from the flashback. He looks around, to remind him of the situation he was currently in. Timmy continued to stare at him, tracking his movements.

Booker knew why he was scared now.

Booker's eyes fell to Elizabeth, her arm remains outstretched, a blank expression on her face.

"You tortured him." It wasn't a question.

"Elizabeth, I-"

"You tortured him for the money."

"That wasn't me." Booker tried, Elizabeth's hand clenched into a fist as she lowered her arm.

"Oh, but you've done way worse, haven't you?"

Booker hesitated,

"Yes."

Elizabeth glared at Booker, her eyes drifted down to the brand on his hand. She stared at it for a moment, her face softening.

She turned to Timmy and stepped towards him, he began to shake. Elizabeth put her hands up. "We mean you no harm."

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to hurt me." He mumbled, his eyes flicking back to Booker's.

"I want to save you." Elizabeth insisted.

"We can't do that, Elizabeth."

Timmy tensed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Please... Don't- don't do this."

"I'm not going to..." Booker sighed. "I wasn't the one who did this to you."

Timmy shook his head slightly, "Yes you were."

"You're right." Elizabeth breathed.

Booker's head turned rapidly to her. "What?"

Her eyes sparked with tears, "I can't save him."

Booker nodded, glad she wasn't responding to Timmy. "I'm- he's coming back, he'll find Timmy if we let him go."

Elizabeth looked down, her fists were clenched so tightly, it looked like it hurt. "I- yes, let's go. I need to get out of here, I need to think."

Booker walked to the cell bars, he tried to slip his arm through to punch in the code, but he couldn't see numbers. "I can't reach the lock."

Elizabeth looked around for another exit, "There's a tear." She spread her arms slightly, the wall melted into a darker, open cell.

"What the hell is that?" Timmy's eyes widened as he peered into the tear. "Jesus..."

Booker walked back to Timmy and picked up the clamps, Timmy began to shake as his eyes fell back to Booker's movements.

"Booker," concern filled Elizabeth's voice, "what are you doing?"

"Erasing our traces."

Booker stepped towards the battery, "No, no. Don't, please." Timmy begged.

Elizabeth rushed in front of Booker, her back against the crate. "Booker, you're scaring me." She placed her hand on his arm, "We can't hurt this man. He going to go through so much..."

"He'll be in more trouble if he finds out someone was here."

"Booker, please. Put the clamps down."

Booker looked like he wanted to argue, but then he saw the fear in Elizabeth's eyes.

He placed the clamps on the ground slowly, Timmy relaxed in his chains. Elizabeth breathed out slowly. "We need to get out of here."

Booker nods. "I'm sorry Elizabeth."

She turned back to the wall, ready to open the tear.

"Please kill me."

Elizabeth whipped back around to Timmy, who stared back her.

"I don't want them to torture me again."

"Then tell them what they want to know." Booker suggested.

Elizabeth shook her head. "He never tells them. No matter what they do."

She directs her question to Timmy, "Why?"

Timmy looked down. "You've never met Fontaine. Please, I don't want to suffer anymore."

Elizabeth stepped back, "I- I can't. I'm sorry."

"Elizabeth, let's go."

She nods, her face pale. They both turn to the wall as she opens the tear.

"Please don't leave me here." Timmy begged.

Booker and Elizabeth step through into the alternate world, Timmy sees a body hanging from chains.

Then the tear closes and Timmy is alone once more.


	8. Variables

My eyes followed frantically as my only hope at escape reopened the hole in the wall to step through.

"Please don't leave me here." I pleaded.

I saw the girl stiffen at the torment in my voice, but neither she nor Dewitt turned back to me.

The portal in the wall widened and I felt my gaze pulled to the interior.

I saw my cell.

It had the crates, the bars, the water.

The only difference was the corpse.

I froze as I saw it, my entire body tightened in fear.

I wanted to turn my head away from the figure,

but I couldn't.

My eyes sopped up every detail, engraving them into my mind.

His hands hung over the misshapen handcuffs, his arms and hands were charred and purple, the flesh had cracked, and blood traced along the crevasses. His head had fallen over his fringed, tattered clothes. His legs drifted slightly from the draft a foot above the ground, his chest and left leg had clamps attached to them;

the clamps attached to a battery.

The body was me.

As the thought finished, the portal closed behind Dewitt and the girl.

The water turned on,

and pain exploded through my body.

The water flowed along my neck and down my back, I contorted and writhed in agony. It felt like fire, burning into me, baking my skin. Droplets of spray splashed onto my face and along my arms, making me scream and jolt in my chains. It felt like molten metal, burning through the layers of my skin. The water flow began to increase and my whole body was on fire. I thrashed as the pain covered me like a blanket, smoke stinging my eyes, coating my throat.

I was dying.

Pain clouded my mind, becoming my identity. I felt myself slipping, and strange but familiar memories poured over me.

 _I became vaguely aware of the gruff voices on either side of me as my body was hoisted up onto a platform of some kind, my legs didn't hold their ground as my mind still drifted in and out of consciousness._

 _I awoke slowly as rough hands squeezed at my ribs, holding me upright as something cold clicked over both of my wrists. My arms were hoisted above me, there was a sound of scraping metal and another two clicks before the coarse hands let go of my sides._

 _"Will it hold?"_

 _"Sure Sullivan, he ain't the strong type."_

 _I blinked at the ground, my vision adjusted to my feet standing on a crate, 3 pairs of officer shoes stood in front of me._

 _I whipped my head up to the face of Sullivan, he smiled coldly._

 _I tried to lunge at him, seething, but my wrists only dug into metal as something held me back. I looked up frantically, my hands were chained to pipes running along the ceiling._

 _My chest tightened, I began to struggle against my bonds with all my might._

 _I went into a frantic state of survival, straining and tugging at the handcuffs. I screamed in frustration and pain as my wrists started to bleed._

 _"Let me go!" I shouted, staring into the face of Sullivan, he didn't even blink._

 _"Give us the tip on Fontaine and we'll let you out."_

 _I spat at him._

 _Sullivan's eyes narrowed slightly. He cocked an eyebrow at me. He turned to another officer and gestured to me._

 _"Give 'im the kick."_

 _The officer nodded and stepped closer to me, I strained harder against the shackles and kicked at the man, hitting him in the shin._

 _The officer faltered, sucking in a sharp breath through his lean face. He glared at me, then swiftly kicked the crate out from under my feet._

 _My body fell to the floor, only to be stopped abruptly by my handcuffs. I screamed in pain as the slack chain of my handcuffs pulled taut, cutting into my wrists as they took the full weight of my body._

 _Pain clouded my vision, my breathing became heavy and I sucked in sharp breaths as blood traced down my arms._

 _The metal continuously dug into my bleeding wrists, the agony didn't seem to end. I clenched my teeth as I tilted my head up to Sullivan, shaking from the pain._

 _"You gonna give Ryan what he wants?" Sullivan stared at me, condescendingly._

 _I glared at him for a moment, then I shook my head._

 _"No." My voice sounded choked, I cleared my throat. "I'm not going to tell you, you're wasting your time."_

 _It was Sullivan's turn to shake his head. "The only time to be wasting away is yours. We've got things to do, we'll come back when you're broken."_

 _Sullivan turned on his heels, signaling to the two other officers to follow him._

 _"You're just going to leave me here?" I looked to Sullivan in confusion, he continued to open the cell gate, not bothering to turn around. "Enjoy the hunger and water Timmy, we'll be back."_

 _With that the three officers exited my cell, and walked down the cobbled corridor. As they did I moaned in agony as the pipes rattled and my handcuffs cut further into my skin. Blood poured more profusely down my arms and the wooziness soon dragged me under._

I awoke with a start, breathing heavily from the memories that had flooded over me. I looked up wildly, scared of what might remain of my skin.

Nothing was there.

No burn marks, no scar tissue, just speckles of water, and a few trails of blood running down my arm.

The burning wasn't real.

And yet I was sure it was. I remembered what it was like to die, the pain had killed me.

Hadn't it?

My head pounded with a headache, and I saw the man in my chains.

The burning had killed him, not me.

 _Not yet._

My eyes widened at the thought. Would this be my future?

To die in my chains? To die from the torture?

I stared down at my dangling feet, understanding the reality of my situation. The girl's voice played back at me.

 _"He never tells them."_

She sounded so sure.

I would never leave then, I was bound to die here. Hopelessness crept over me, wrapping tight around my chest, squeezing on my lungs till I felt like I couldn't breathe. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, trying to calm myself down. The dream replayed in my mind, it must have been his memory as well.

Had Sullivan captured me, too?

I didn't think so, but my apprehension had all become a blur of pain and voices.

Why did _their_ Ryan choose Sullivan over Booker?

Who was worse?

Whatever the differences, Sullivan had been right about one thing,

The hunger.

I began to feel it compressing my stomach, as it always did in the morning. I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes, waiting for it to intensify. Soon enough, the cramping pain dug into my entire abdomen, making me want to double over in pain. The nausea built up in me, making me want to throw up. Of course, there was no food in my stomach, so there were only a few agonizing moments of eternity where I stayed on the verge of vomiting, with the blunt pain of hunger pounding at my insides. I kept reminding myself that the end would soon come, until the hunger past. My vision cleared again and I looked up to the front of my cell.

I found a man staring at me.


	9. The Man with the Knife (Part 1)

Fear struck through me as I jumped, startled. I sucked in slow, deep breaths to try and calm the heartbeat thundering in my ears.

My eyes remained trained on the man standing in the corridor, studying me.

He wore a white lab coat, the sleeves rolled back to reveal his black, surgical gloves. His gloved fingers gripped to the bars of my cell as he leaned forward to look at me. I shivered again, I looked into the man's eyes, but he did not return my stare. Instead his gaze flickered over my body, studying my face, my arms, my legs. His striking features were twisted with disappointment, I could practically feel the judgement emanating off him. The man cocked his head, as if considering something.

"No goddess, he will not be the becoming of our masterpiece. A shame. Such beauty to be created must have some sort of start, we will find it elsewhere. But, one could always use... _practice_."

I stiffened, and my pulse raced once more as the man pulled something out of his pocket. It glinted in the light,

A scalpel.

He twisted the blade between his fingers, "One never becomes accustomed to the thrill of the blade and the flesh. Once I feel the swift of the cut, I... get excited. Excitement makes things slippery. Too much red blocking my vision, clouding my masterpiece. Perhaps I could practice my restraint on this fellow here."

He studied me still, and I never felt more like an circus animal. Fear swirled around in my stomach, I couldn't plead with someone who didn't think me human.

His gaze finally reached my eyes, but I didn't like the hunger I saw in it.

He smiled. "Our practice is awake, goddess!"

He directed his question to me, "Will you aid me in my journey to help the people's perfection?"

I took in a breath to suppress my terror. "Don't you dare fucking touch me."

The man's eyes lit up. "It has spirit! Ones with spirit always last longer. The rest, all so easily swayed by pain, eager to give their hand to death. Tiresome, so selfish." He shook his head, and I reminded myself that he was on the other side of my bars, he couldn't harm me.

Unless he had the code.

As if reading my mind, the man turned to the keypad on the wall. My breathing quickened. If he got in... he could do whatever he wanted to me. He could cut me to shreds, and I'd be useless to stop it.

"Do you know the code goddess?" He looked to the air above him. "Technology was never my strong suit, I've always preferred to work with my hands."

The man sighed and put his scalpel in his pocket, my body relaxed slightly with it tucked away.

He didn't know the key, I was safe from him.

I repeated the words in my head, trying to believe it.

But as the lock clicked with the man switching between combinations, my chest tightened, imagining the slim chance that he might get inside. The latex of his glove made a scrunching sound as the man went to press the enter button.

There was a soft click, I sucked in a breath.

Then the keypad's lights flashed red and toned negatively, the man jumped backwards, shaking his hand.

"It shocked me!"

He inspected his gloved hand, then looked up again. "We never can trust machines to make the right decisions, can we goddess?"

"Who the hell are you."

A mix of fear and relief rushed through me as I looked up to the familiar voice. A shadowed Dewitt stood at the far corner of the corridor, his gun trained on the man in the medical clothing. The man looked up, I could see the startled expression on his face. It flickered quickly to annoyance, then became calm; emotionless.

The man turned his back slowly to me, facing Dewitt. His hands were raised, aligned with his head. "Dr. Steinman, sir. Terribly sorry to intrude, I must have wandered too far off the beaten path. I got lost, and happened to stumble across your... patient."

Dewitt walked closer, his gun still held towards Steinman. "I recognize you Dr. Steinman, you're the one that promises them rich folk pretty." He pointed the pistol to Steinman's forehead, "You couldn't be more lost. We do the opposite down here."

Dewitt glanced to me, fear coursed through my veins once more.

Steinman coughed, "I see, well-"

"But that doesn't explain why you're meddling with the keypad." Dewitt cut in.

Steinman hesitated, "Yes. Well, I was looking for a volunteer, of sorts. My customers are so unimaginative, ungrateful of my extensive ability. And he looked like he was no longer of any use, so I thought I might practice my creativity on him."

Booker eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything.

Steinman coughed again, "I will show myself home now, I shall find patients elsewhere. Sorry if I am intruding on a... session."

He backed away from the pistol, turning to walk towards the bend of the corridor. Booker lowered his gun, looking again to me. He stared coldly into my eyes as he called out, "Wait."

My eyes widened, Dewitt's stare continued to drill into me.

Steinman stopped.

"Yes, Mr...?"

"Dewitt." He finished, breaking my stare to turn back to Steinman. "Maybe we could provide you a little practice after all."

Steinman smiled, "What do you need me to do?"

"Just a bit of cutting. This shouldn't take too long. But if I'm going to trust you to Timmy here, I need you to start when I say so, and stop when I say so."

Another flicker of annoyance flashed across Steinman's face, but he nodded. "Of course, but I didn't bring any sort of numbing solution, so the pain-"

"I don't think for a second you give a damn about whether he's screaming." Dewitt interrupted, "In fact, I'm sure you enjoy it." He tucked the pistol back into his pocket. "Skip the pleasantries, Steinman, I'm here to torture this man, and you're here to help. Whether it pains you doesn't matter, whether it pains him does."

Steinman seemed slightly taken aback, but after a moment he nodded again.

"I suppose you see right through me Mr. Dewitt." His eyes trailed over my body. "I can make him scream, if that's what's needed. But if I deliver, perhaps you might allow me to take a few more liberties...?"

"Not till I'm done with him. After that, you can do whatever you want. I suspect we'll be receiving a few more rounds of captured men, we won't need all of them either."

Steinman clasped his hands together, a fire was lit in his eyes. "How wonderful. Take the lead, Mr. Dewitt."

Dewitt nodded. He stole another glance at me as he stepped towards the keypad.

My body shook with terror, he seemed satisfied with my reaction, nodding to himself as he punched in the code to my cell.

My breaths were labored, I stared at the clamps on the floor.

 _I wish they had killed me. Why didn't they kill me?_

She thought she was showing me mercy.

Dewitt and Steinman turned towards me as the lock flashed green and the bars slid by them, opening.

But she just left me to endure this.

"We ready to talk now?"

Dewitt was the first to step into my cell, he walked towards me, stopping a few feet from my dangling body.

My jaw quavered as my eyes flashed to Dr. Steinman, he was holding the scalpel again. I turned my gaze back to Dewitt, I couldn't look at him any more.

There was nothing I could do to stop this.

Pleading would lead to pain.

Silence would lead to pain.

To cooperate would be even worse.

I tried pleading anyway. "I... I can't..." My voice was ragged, breathy.

Dewitt turned to Steinman, "What do you suppose we start with?"

My head lowered to my shoulder. "Please." I whispered.

Steinman studied me again. He looked above my body, to my arm. I followed his gaze. Blood and water trailed across my pale skin. They moved sporadically with the tremor of my arm, of my entire body.

"The skin over the flexor carpi radialis is susceptible to pain." He concluded.

"What the hell does that mean?" Booker responded.

Steinman sighed, glancing at my arm again, never to my eyes. He walked over to my left, his scalpel now positioned in front of him.

He came closer to my arm, his knife came closer to my arm.

"Stay away from me." I warned, panic boiling my insides.

He ignored me as he reached for my arm.

"Don't!" I shouted, trying to kick him. A sharp pain shot through my wrists, I gasped, stopping, breathing, by then he had grabbed onto me.

He brought his scalpel up, and fear froze my entire body. My breathing was quick, ragged.

Steinman grabbed at the sleeve that hung around the middle of my forearm. I heard the tear of the fabric as he cut through it. Felt as the strings binding it together tore from each other. I waited for him to slide the knife into my arm, but he simply revealed my skin all the way to my elbow. He pulled the sleeve of my shirt down past my elbow, then pressed the dull side of the scalpel to the middle of the inner of my forearm. I stiffened again.

"The middle region is the flexor carpi radialis. Softs skin, easy to cut into, will be sensitive to pain. I won't cut any major veins, I'm not planning on digging too deep."

Dewitt glanced about my arm, then nodded his approval. "You can cut on my command."

Steinman lowered the scalpel, but nothing could dull the terror twisting inside me, making my entire body shake. Nothing could divert the fact that the next time Steinman raised his hand to me, he would be cutting into my skin.

My wild eyes flashed to Dewitt, who pulled out another audio diary from his jacket. This time he didn't bother hiding it from me.

He noted me staring at it, "So we remember the information you give us."

I didn't say anything. Just hung my head as he went to put the diary on the crate, as he did his foot nudged one of the clamps on the floor. Dewitt paused, looking down at it.

There was a moment of silence, my breath caught. He leaned down to pick it up, glancing at the battery as he stood.

The other Dewitt's voice echoed in my head.

 _"He'll be in more trouble if he finds out someone was here."_

I looked up, Dewitt was glaring at me now.

"Who's been here?" He demanded.

I stared at the clamp in Dewitt's hand, his knuckles whitened as he gripped the handle.

"I don't know." I mumbled.

"Bullshit." Dewitt retorted. He jabbed the clamp at my stomach, I recoiled, flinching.

It felt like electricity.

Dewitt waited for me to look up again, and my mind screamed at me to meet his gaze, to not give him another weakness to prey on.

I couldn't stop myself from staring at the clamp. I watched it as if it would prevent Dewitt from attaching it to the battery again, as if my gaze would stop it from triggering anymore pain. Dewitt dangled the clamp in front of my face. It spun, slowly. "Last time I checked, you were screaming, and this was attached to a battery. I didn't take these off when I came in." He let the clamp drop, I flinched again at the clatter of stone and metal clashing. "Someone was here, someone took off the clamps, and you're going to tell me who it was."

I couldn't. He wouldn't believe me. I didn't know if _I_ believed me. I only accepted it because they didn't hurt me, because they'd stopped the pain. What reason did Dewitt have to believe me if I said it was he who did it? Much less _another_ him?

"I don't know." I repeated. It came out quiet, disheartened.

It couldn't sound more like a lie. I didn't have any better of an answer.

"I'm getting tired of this Timmy." Dewitt warned. "You know who it was. Tell me, now."

I hung my head, "I don't know..." I could barely bear to speak it to the floor.

Dewitt turned slightly to the left. "Cut him."

My head whipped up, my eyes full of wild fear.

"No-" I pleaded. I looked to my left, Steinman was smiling.

He positioned his scalpel in one hand, the other grabbed my arm, holding it steady.

I twisted my arm frantically, my wrists screamed, as I tried to break free of his grip.

"Don't! You wouldn't understand, Dewitt, please!"

Fear tunneled through me, I didn't care how weak I was to beg to him.

He looked at me blankly, "Was it one of Fontaine's men?"

I shook my head, hoping it would be enough.

"Lies."

Dewitt gave a nod to Steinman.

I struggled more profusely, trying desperately to stop the blade from reaching my arm.

Steinman's grip tightened, he was strong, his hand steady.

"Stop!" I screamed.

My gaze fixed on the glinting scalpel.

Steinman rested the edge on the middle of my forearm, I watched as he positioned his hand on the knife. I whimpered, softly, imagining whatever was to come.

Steinman looked up at me, into my eyes. He absorbed everything in them, his smile widened at my fear.

"This will hurt more if you move."

He tilted his hand, and the tip of the blade dipped into my skin.

He dragged the scalpel slowly across my forearm, I gasped in pain.

I followed Steinman's advice, my thrashing would only drive the knife deeper.

He lifted the blade when the thin red line was an inch in width.

It was shallow and bled only a little, but the wound stung. I clenched my teeth against the sensation.

Steinman positioned the blade again, the tip of the knife where the first cut had started.

"Don't-" I began, Steinman pierced my skin, and brought the scalpel straight down my arm.

I cried out, the cut was deeper, longer. My head turned toward the ground as I breathed heavily, and so I wasn't watching when he did it again.

Surprise made it hurt even more, I let out a shout of pain.

I sucked in breaths through clenched teeth, when the immediate pain settled I looked up at my left arm.

The cuts were in the shape of an open rectangle, four inches long. A short horizontal gash at the top, connected to two long vertical slashes stopping an inch from the bend of my arm. I winced as blood spilled from the incisions, it was starting to become noticeably painful.

But Steinman wasn't done.

He brought the scalpel up again, positioning the blade sideways to where the first cut was placed. I swallowed in fear, waiting for the pain to become unbearable.

I didn't want to see my skin cut into, yet my eyes remained fixed to the knife.

Steinman caught the bottom of the skin of the cut, and brought the scalpel down behind it.

I moaned sharply as he cut into my flesh and pulled his knife out swiftly, painfully.

Steinman lowered the scalpel, stopping to admire the progress.

A square of the flesh inside the rectangle was cut away from the rest of my arm, but it remained in place, connected to the rest of my skin at the bottom.

I couldn't see that a piece of my arm had been separated from the muscle behind it, but I could feel it.

Steinman tucked his scalpel away, he tilted his head at his work.

He ran his finger down one of the vertical cuts. Another whimper escaped me, it hurt like hell.

Steinman turned his head slightly towards Dewitt. "You might want to give him another chance, before I... enhance his willingness."

Dewitt smirked, his gaze burning into my eyes.

"This ain't gonna be pleasant Timmy."

I shut my eyes, against the thought, against his words, against the nearing future.

"If you don't tell me now, you're going to regret it in a few seconds."

His words sliced through me.

"This ain't worth protecting what you know. We don't have to do this to you. Give me the tip on Fontaine, tell me who else was in your cell, and we will leave you with nothing but a few cuts on your arm. You made us do this to you, but you can stop it here. Spare yourself Timmy, you've been through enough pain."

Dewitt's nature shifted as he spoke. His eyebrows raised, his arms out in an open gesture. He seemed trustworthy, almost... kind.

But I knew now that those two traits did not exist. Especially not in a person who tortured people like me for a dollar.

I could practically feel the longing of Steinman, the longing to cause real agony. It sent shivers down my spine, there was nothing even Dewitt could do to keep him off me. Terror pulsed through me, my heartbeat sped. I did my best to take the fear out of my eyes as I stared down Dewitt.

"I can't tell you, I won't tell you... so get on with it."

I was proud at the steadiness of my voice, yet cold with the thought that I had truly sealed my own fate.

Dewitt's hands dropped, and so did his open nature.

"I want to hear him scream."


	10. The Man with the Knife (Part 2)

My chest tightened, but I refused to cower, not yet.

I was sure my efforts would be forgotten in a few moments, bravery didn't dull pain.

Dewitt stepped back and put his hands into his pockets, studying my face, for my reactions, my emotions. I glared back at him, but as my peripheral vision caught the shuffling of Steinman, the fear in my eyes betrayed me. I looked to my tormentor, wanting to be aware of his movements.

Steinman pulled at the cuffs of his gloves, making the latex suction more firmly to his long fingers. He pulled out his scalpel, my breaths quickened, unable to imagine what I was about to endure, yet knowing it would be agonizing all the same.

Steinman held his scalpel in his left hand, and it remained at his side as he reached up with his right hand to the rectangle cut on my arm.

Blood had covered most of my wound now, it ran down the vertical slashes and collected along my sleeve, soaking into the already damp fabric. Steinman wiped away some of the red with a brush of his thumb, revealing my skin in the center of the three cuts. Where the fourth one lay hidden.

I groaned softly in discomfort as he touched my skin, the pain was brief but sharp, and the open wounds still hurt on their own.

Steinman wiped my blood off on his coat,

I wondered how much red would be there when he finished.

His teeth gleamed a sharp white as he drew his hand up again, and dug his thumb into the top cut on my arm.

I screamed in pain, Steinman pushed his thumb down, under the piece of flesh he had already partially severed. The side of his pointer finger pinched at the skin above it, and he lifted the flesh from where it had been cut.

Blood pooled from where my skin had been pulled back, pouring around where the flesh was still attached to my arm. Blood rose around Steinman's thumb, my arm was drenched in red. I moaned in agony at the brutal sensation of my muscle and flesh being exposed to the air.

More dark liquid poured over Steinman's glove as he pinched harder at the skin, and began to pull at it, slowly tearing the flesh from my arm.

I started screaming again, I writhed in agony, and that only made me scream louder. Dr. Steinman was unfazed, and he continued pulling, making the process as slow and painful as possible. Tears began to roll down my cheeks as the intense pain wrapped around my brain and my arm, I continued to wail as I felt the tissues of my flesh tear away from each other. Agony pierced my brain from the inside out, I watched as more and more of my flesh was pulled away, my body thrashed in a desperate effort to make it stop. Steinman kept pulling, but my skin didn't give with such a slow pace. I writhed in pain as he tugged on my flesh, trying to break the tissue from each other.

"Stay still." He growled.

He yanked on my flesh to pull it away, and I strained against my handcuffs as my screams became ear splitting, filling my cell.

I fell back down in my chains, pain from my wrists cut through me still. I was sobbing now. Tears blurred the world around me, agony stabbed through my body.

My screaming never stopped.

The pulling never stopped.

My head turned to my arm, but I saw only a blur of red.

The blood was gushing.

Pouring down my arm, spitting at each break of my tissue.

It had covered Steinman's sleeve, I felt it spray my face.

I saw the strip of flesh that had been pulled away from my arm, taut ripples of red that Steinman dug his thumb into, to keep from slipping.

The rectangle gouge in my arm was horrifying.

I turned to the right and vomited, blood and bile poured from my mouth.

My body tried to vomit again, but I was suffocating, I desperately tried to spit it all out, I wailed in pain and misery. I gulped in breaths as screams took hold of me again, I needed this to end. I couldn't take anymore of the pain that raked my arm. The continuous agony targeted to one part of my body.

I wanted to beg, to plead, to say anything to make them stop.

I wanted to tell them.

I wanted to give Dewitt the location of Fontaine, give him Dewitt and the girl, anything to make Dewitt call off Steinman.

But it didn't matter, because all I could do was scream.

Agony flooded through my brain, muddling any rational thought, keeping my head focused on the torture.

I wished it would knock me out. If only the blood loss would still my consciousness, stop the pain.

It didn't. Steinman was too smart for that.

The rectangle of flesh he pulled from my arm wasn't deep enough for me to become unconscious, not a major injury so the pain would not be dulled down.

He knew what he was doing.

I coughed up more blood between my sobs and screams. Pain and tears blurred my vision, the world was washed with red and grey. My eyes found Dewitt's hazy outline, I wished to meet his eyes, to plead him without speaking, as all my voice emitted was pain.

But I couldn't see anything but his vague figure, I had no indication of when he would make Steinman stop.

I didn't think he ever would.

I writhed helplessly, the agony was relentless. My head shifted violently from side to side as I screamed in pain, more blood spotted onto my face and trailed down my cheeks, carried by my tears.

My arm was on fire, but it was worse.

So much worse.

I hadn't wanted to think of what Steinman could do to me, but I could never have imagined this.

Steinman tugged roughly on my flesh again, I howled in agony.

"Stop." I heard Dewitt say.

My head was too flooded with pain to register it, maybe I was imaging things. Maybe it was me.

Steinman didn't stop. The strip of skin was as taunt as ever, the torture did not subside.

I got a glimpse of my left arm again, through tear logged eyes I saw how long the gash had become.

"Steinman." It was clearer now, a warning.

I looked to him pleadingly, begging him to let go.

A craze of anger and insanity was ablaze in his eyes.

He gritted his teeth.

" _Steinman!_ " Dewitt's tone was sharp and menacing, he would not ask again.

Steinman stopped pulling.

I slumped in my shackles, moaning in agony and suffering.

I breathed rapid, shuddering breaths. I closed my eyes as the red rimming my vision began to recede, but the full pain refused to leave me.

My throat was sore and dry from my stream of screams, it hurt to swallow.

I still whimpered at the strip of flesh I could feel exposed from my arm, and my hand cuffs bit into the cuts on my wrists harder than ever.

I could feel the skin Steinman pulled away dangling against my arm.

The last of the water drained from my eyes, I felt it trace down the cheek and lips of my lowered head.

I didn't want to look up, I couldn't face the men in front of me.

I didn't want to see what they had done. What Steinman had done.

"You with us Timmy? Do we need Steinman to wake you up?"

Steinman's hand brushed against my arm again, grabbing onto the strip of flesh.

My body tensed, and I pulled my head up, looking to Steinman with fright and dread.

He lifted the strip straight out, sobs seeped out of my lips.

His other hand came with his scalpel to the bottom of where the flesh formed a right angle from my arm, to where it was still connected.

I did not have any energy left in my body, I could not fight him.

He sawed through the strip, my scream was hoarse.

Steinman held the severed piece of my skin as if it were a prize. I could see the skin, and the red of the flesh beneath it, and I knew I might throw up again.

Blood pooled from the rectangle dug into my arm, pouring out over my elbow, and it ran down my wrists from where I had broken the scabs beneath my handcuffs.

I had never seen what my flesh looked like beneath the skin;

It was red, and it was disgusting.

I spat out blood, whimpering. The blood consistently spilled down my arm, and it hurt.

Steinman slipped my skin into a bag.

"Who paid you a visit Timmy?"

My lips quavered, misery and fear gnawed at my insides.

My gaze found Dewitt's, I looked to him helplessly.

"I- I don't know..."

It was a plea, not an answer.

Dewitt looked pointedly at my arm.

"Please..." My voice was raw and quiet. "no one came to talk to me, I- I didn't see the person that took the clamps off."

"Press on his wound."

Tears trailed down my face, "No! No, don't... please-"

Steinman pushed his thumb into the gouge on my arm.

I screamed again, writhing, as tears ran down my face. My nerves were on fire, agony shot through me once more. My head threw back as I wailed in pain, I thrashed reflexively, a vain attempt to defend myself. Blood ran down Steinman's glove, the cuff of his coat became wet with new blood. He pushed the nail of his thumb into my wound, pain exploded inside of me. Steinman pressed harder and harder, my vision dimmed from the pain, and it felt like I was hearing some one else's screams.

Steinman dropped his hand.

My screams fell away to moans of agony, my breaths were labored as I waited for the pain to ebb away.

Agony pooled from where Steinman's thumb had been, my vision was still blurry.

"Going to cooperate Timmy? Or shall we continue?"

My body shook with fear and pain. Sobs racked my chest, the agony made it hard to breathe.

"Timmy?"

Moans and whimpers escaped my lips, as I waited desperately for the pain to fade. My arm felt as though it were pulsing, throbbing from pain and trauma. My vision flickered as the agony threatened to make me unconscious.

My drooping head sank farther down as I began to pass out.

Dewitt grabbed my hair and wrenched my head up. My eyes flickered back open, I moaned in discomfort from him pulling my hair.

"You're not getting out of this that easily."

Dewitt pushed my head back forcefully, before he let go of my hair.

My head lowered to where I looked to the shoes of Dewitt.

My breathing was disrupted, short, heavy breaths. My gaze fluttered abruptly around, I was still recovering the immediate pain of what Steinman did.

I forced my head up, I saw Steinman inspect the blood on the cuff of his sleeve, it was a deep, wet red.

I focused my gaze on Dewitt. He stared at me expectantly.

"I was knocked out." My voice hitched from the pain. "I wasn't conscious... when they... when they took them off."

Another wave of pain washed over me, my eyes closed as I emitted short moans between my quickened breaths.

The pain settled and I looked to Dewitt. Fear swirled in my stomach, I didn't know if he would believe me.

"You were unconscious?" His tone was flat.

I nodded shakily.

"But you know which of Fontaine's men would do it."

I looked away. Dread was beginning to build up inside of me. "None of them would."

"Clearly that's not true."

"None of them would."

"Alright then. Give me a name and I'll ask them myself."

I stared at him, my body began to tremble. He'd trapped me again.

My eyes traveled back to Steinman for a moment, he was studying the ripped gouge in my arm. I didn't want him to hurt me. I would never forget the pain I experienced only a few moments ago.

The desperation in me made me want to do anything to not be tortured by Steinman again, but the fear in me knew I could not give away Fontaine or his men.

"I can't tell you names."

"You sure about that Timmy? That thing on your arm looks like it hurts."

It did. It really did. My eyes glanced at my arm, before I could turn my head away.

The image was terrifying, it burned into my brain.

A perfect rectangle, straight cuts, no jagged lines.

It was only rugged in the indent, where the skin had been torn away. Beads of blood arose from ribbons and lines of my flesh, and poured more intensely from the bottom of the cut.

I saw the nail marks of Steinman's thumb.

Fear clawed at my stomach, but worse was the despair that pooled in my abdomen, threatening to swallow me.

The despair in response to my impossible situation.

To the fact that I would never leave here,

They would never stop.

"Please... I- I can't give you Fontaine."

Something flickered across Dewitt's eyes.

"If you give me one of the men from his ring, we'll let you go. You've done your time, give me and Ryan someone else to interrogate. Fontaine's men don't deserve your mercy."

 _Let me go._ Let me go just to be taken again by Fontaine. My chest tightened with the thought of what he might do to me.

"I can't-" my voice broke, "I can't give you names."

"You're really going to put yourself through this again, aren't you?" Dewitt prompted.

Steinman took a step forward, a small whimper escaped me.

"Please-" my words seeped between my short and quick breaths. "stay away."

"Give us a name, Timmy."

I pressed weakly against my handcuffs, my voice was close to sobs. "Don't touch me."

"Timmy."

Steinman's eyes were full of excitement, I was trembling.

"You know you don't want to be tortured, and yet you refuse to cooperate." Dewitt's tone was full of warning. I was reaching the end of his reason.

I tore my eyes away from Steinman, and I looked meekly to Dewitt. He let my silence stretch for another second before he gave the order.

"Steinman, remind Timmy why he wants to keep talking."

I whimpered in fear as I looked pleadingly to Steinman. He smiled.

His scalpel gleamed, wiped clean of previous blood. He stepped towards me. I began to struggle, but the torment in my wrists brought me to a halt, I breathed heavily.

Steinman grabbed my jaw with his left hand, tilting my head to the side. I fought against him, a quiet sob of fear escaped me as he touched my face. I strained against his hand, but his fingers held firmly against my chin, keeping me in place.

Terror coursed through me. I desperately tried to struggle out of his grip, but to no avail. Steinman pressed the side of his scalpel against my cheek, I stiffened, breathing hard.

"Now what shall we do this time?" Steinman muttered to himself, he brushed the knife along my cheek and down my neck, I whimpered at the feel of the blade. "Please..." I pleaded. Steinman didn't seem to hear me, but Dewitt stared at me, waiting.

Steinman tilted my head the other way, I still couldn't fight his grip.

He placed the scalpel against my right cheek. "Your cheek bones could be more defined." He commented. Fear pulsed through my body, the image of him slicing into my cheek captivated my mind, I shook with fright.

Steinman brought the blade to the side of my face, I desperately tried to struggle away from it. I wasn't strong enough. The days spent in my chains had made me weak.

"Steinman."

His grip tightened on my jaw. I looked to Dewitt in fear. Dewitt shook his head slightly, maintaining eye contact with Steinman. "We want to make talking the easiest thing Timmy can do."

Steinman didn't say anything, but his scalpel began to dig into my cheek; I whimpered as I felt the sting of the blade dipping into my skin. Steinman took in a breath, then he nodded curtly and lifted the scalpel from my cheek. He let go of me, my head dropped to my chest again.

I was shaking in fear, my head was clouded with a biting, persisting pain. But even as I stared vaguely at my dangling feet, I was acutely attuned to Steinman's presence before me. He was bristled, angry. I knew I would become subject to that anger.

His feet moved more to my left, and I cried out in agony as I felt his thumb run down the exposed flesh of my arm. Tears spilled from my eyes. My head rose to face him, his fingers held to the back of my arm, ready to do it again. "Stop. Please... _please_. I'm begging you- Steinman... please stop." My choked voice managed the desperate plea, I needed mercy from the men least likely to give it, it was all I could manage. They had put me through so much pain, and the remnants of all that had been done to me gripped at my insides, never fading. I couldn't take anymore. But I couldn't tell. I couldn't.

Steinman soaked up the fear and pain in my eyes. This man was insane. Where as Dewitt had controlled, intended intimidation, Steinman's was raw, he was unaware to it. He wanted to cut into my skin and hear my anguish.

Steinman stared at me, "Please..." I begged. He dragged his thumb along my wound again in response, watching my face as I screamed in pain. My head lowered as he lifted his thumb, I moaned in agony. "Stop." I pleaded, my features were twisted in agony. "Dewitt..." I looked to him, my voice dripping with misery. "I can't- you know I can't tell you anything."

"You will." He promised.

"I can't!" I screamed, tears streamed down my face. "You have no idea what Fontaine's like. He'll know if I tell. He'll find me... he'd keep me alive... you- you don't know what he'd do to me." My voice shook, terror was blanched across my face. I could perfectly imagine myself bound in a dark room, where only Fontaine knew where I was. Where he'd torture me over and over, and never kill me.

"Am I really the lesser of two evils?" Dewitt asked sardonically. "When you give me Fontaine, we will kill him. Ryan will overtake his empire, and no one will have any reason to harm you."

It was as if my breath itself shook. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"You'll never catch Fontaine." I looked up at him, my eyes full of fear and pain. "You wouldn't catch him even if I told you. So just- just leave me alone."

Dewitt crossed his arms. "I'm afraid that's not the answer we're looking for, Timmy."

I whimpered in fear and despair, I couldn't be tortured again. "Please... please don't." Tears began to form in my eyes. "This brings you nothing." Dewitt shook his head, "You're the one that decides to stop this. Not me."

"I can't tell you." I was insisting yet begging at the same time.

Dewitt turned to Steinman, who was tapping him scalpel against his palm, annoyed and bored. "Shall we do the same to the right arm?"

"No!" I screamed, "No, please... please." My vision blurred together as tears filled my eyes. I couldn't go through that again.

Steinman considered my other arm. "I suppose one should attempt some form of symmetry, even if it might be deemed unoriginal."

"As long as it's effective Steinman. I'm afraid we don't have many to judge this particular work."

Steinman blinked, as if he had only vaguely heard Dewitt. "No, they could never appreciate it... Effective? Yes. It should be. You heard how much he was screaming. If only he would stay still... though watching him struggle, it's quite exhilarating, isn't it?" His words trailed, lost in his train of thought.

Dewitt shook his head as he stepped backwards out of the way, gesturing to Steinman.

"Please!" I sobbed. "No, you can't. You can't. I'm begging you. Not again, please not again."

"Give us Fontaine." Dewitt demanded.

"I can't... I can't."

"You can and you will if you want us to stop."

I shook in my chains, my tears were warm against my eyelids and cheeks. Dewitt shook his head at my silence. "Go on Steinman."

He stepped forward, I fought against my handcuffs frantically. Sharp pain shot through my wrists, but I ignored it. I knew what he was going to do would feel like. I couldn't handle it again.

I struggled desperately as Steinman moved to my side, my head turned to see his movements.

In Steinman's place stood a man with black hair and blue eyes that were cold and unforgiving. He glared at me as he drew his hand of orange flames towards my arm.

I jumped in shock, my breaths increased rapidly at the new man before me. I stared at him in terror, his flaming hand enclosed on the metal of my handcuff. I cried out at the heat burning into my palm, I twisted my hand against it, but I could not move out of the way. I opened my mouth to tell the man I didn't know him, to stop hurting me, but all intentions were erased as pain exploded from my wrist.

I screamed in pain as the metal the man's flaming hand held heated into a faint orange colour. "Who did you tell?" He demanded. His Irish accent was hardened and angry. I didn't know what he was talking about. Agony clouded my mind, swam in my vision. I screamed louder still as the metal grew hot enough to drip onto my forearm, I writhed in pain. Pain shocked through my nerves as the melting metal dripped onto my skin, I began to feel it splatter onto the back of my neck as well. My body convulsed in response to the pain, I thrashed in an attempt to avoid the beads of molten metal, but they began to fall onto my body more rapidly, on my shoulder and head, soft taps burning into the top of my body. I writhed in agony, but soon the taps began to cool, becoming colder... wetter. The metal dripping onto my arm produced a sharper pain, it sliced into my skin.

My screaming quieted, I turned to see the man, and found Steinman once more. He had already cut the rectangle into my right arm. I was hallucinating. That man wasn't real. The pain wasn't real.

I jolted as frigid water ran down my back. My eyes widened, I looked to the exposed flesh of my left arm. _Saltwater..._

"No." I moaned, I began to shake as the water spilled onto the back of my head and shoulders.

"Dammit." Steinman cursed. He tucked his scalpel away. "How am I supposed to finish?"

"You can't." Said Dewitt, "The water might knock him out."

"No..." I begged. I felt it spray at the back of my arm already, soon it would spill over. I began to shiver as my clothes grew wet.

"This is what you get for not cooperating." Dewitt said mercilessly.

"Please," I pleaded, "don't let it rise over my arm. I won't... I can't take it."

"You should've thought about that before you tried to resist us."

The water was increasing, the back of my clothes were soaked, and water ran down the back of my arm. Terror twisted at my gut.

"Please!" I screamed in desperation.

Dewitt scoffed, "I can't help you."

I shivered violently at the freezing water running down my skin.

Dewitt gestured at Steinman towards the cell opening. He spoke to me, "You're little friends won't be able to turn this off. Maybe now you'll learn your lesson."

I whimpered. Water trailed down my nose.

"Next time I hope to find you more responsive Timmy, don't forget the pain I can put you through." Dewitt stared at me for a moment, drilling into me. Then he turned and followed Steinman out of the cell, pressing a button to shut the gate.

The water poured over my head and arms, I screamed in pain as the salt burned into my exposed flesh and wounds. All my nerves in the area were on fire, I thrashed as the water burned into my left arm. Saltwater filled my eyes and throat. I coughed violently between my screams. Agony clouded my head, but the pain in my arm was just as clear. It controlled me. I wailed in anguish, I had been through so much. Why must I endure so much more? My voice would be gone soon, and the more I screamed the more my throat was on fire with seawater. I writhed in agony, but the frigid water wouldn't let me pass out. I would experience this until the water turned off, and then I'd endure it once the water turned on again. Pain and water blurred my vision entirely, I lost all capacity to keep time. My screams persisted, as I waited for when the agony might end.


	11. The In-Between

Dr. Steinman leaned down over my face, a surgical mask covering his nose and mouth. I might not have recognized him, but his eyes held the same inane fury and excitement that haunted me whenever I closed my eyes. He peered over me; I noticed the cold, hard surface the back of my head was pressed upon. My back arched at the biting chill of the metal table I lay on, I couldn't move my hands or feet. I was shirtless, I tries to lift my head to see what was restraining me, but something was strapped across my forehead, securing me to the table. Fear was coursing through my veins now, I struggled against the bonds restraining my hands and feet. Steinman laid a hand on my left arm, "Quiet," he soothed, "I wasn't able to finish." My eyes went wide with fear, my chest rose and fell rapidly. Steinman took out his scalpel, his gloved hand prodded at the middle of my stomach, I pulled against my bonds as my body shook in terror. I could only watch as Steinman positioned himself sideways to me and brought his right arm to my abdomen, out of my view. I felt the sharp pain as he cut into my skin and dragged the scalpel down my stomach, I thrashed as he slashed at my insides, piercing into my stomach. Agony exploded from the organ, Steinman raised his hand to stab me again;

My eyes shot open.

My breathing was rapid, I looked around, panic stricken. There was no Steinman, no scalpel, no one and nothing to hurt me. I was alone in my cell.

I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, calming my heart and trying to suppress the pain that had shaped my dream. Hunger dug at my stomach, clawing at my insides. My head threw back as I tried to fight it, but it was swallowing me. The nauseous pain seared throughout my brain and body, as the starvation poked sharply at the nerves of my abdomen. My body reacted by trying to bring my knees up to my chest, I did not have enough core strength to achieve it. My legs fell back down and the cuts on my wrist were dropped more heavily into my handcuffs. I screamed as it re-dug into the bruises and wounds of my skin. I clenched my teeth and breathed, trying to force the hunger to pass. I needed food. I couldn't think properly, I was growing weaker and skinnier every day.

I couldn't die of starvation. After all I'd been through, I couldn't endure such a slow and agonizing death. I needed food, I needed sleep. My rest was full of nightmares that haunted me, and I was interrupted as the water turned on and sent agony flowing through my body. I knew I wouldn't withstand Dewitt if I was this frail, he would get what he wanted from me.

I remembered the promise of the future; _He was going to torture me again. He'd torture me until I couldn't take it. Then I'd tell him. And then he'd give me to Fontaine._

The thoughts clenched at my chest, I could feel my heart rate increasing rapidly. Anxiety wrapped around my chest and windpipe and tightened, until it felt like I couldn't breathe. It was as if I was drowning in fear and panic. Fear twisted my insides into nots and pulled. Terror was swallowing me. I was hyperventilating. I was going insane.

 _Deep Breaths Timmy._ I commanded myself. _Slow down._

I focused on my breathing. Pushing everything else aside until I reduced the speed of the rise and fall of my chest.

My muscles relaxed, though my body still trembled slightly.

I stared at the front of my cell before me. The cobble stones were wet, the cell bars in a permanent state between rusted and clean. The digit lock on the outside wall glowed a faint white light, though I could not make it out in detail. The whole cell was dipped in despair, the grayish blue hue of everything that surrounded me seeped with dismal. I didn't want to die here. I didn't want to die here, though I knew I would anyway.

A sharp twinge shot through my left arm. I sucked in a breath, looking up to the source of the pain.

The gash in my arm had gotten worse, I grimaced at the sight of it. The skin around it had colored to a splotchy, pinkish red; it was probably infected. The inside of the open wound was a deep red, though the blood had ceased pouring down my arm. I looked away, the wound served as a visual trigger for all the memories of Dewitt's last visit I wanted to forget.

I could still feel him doing it. I would never forget the pulling, his enjoyment, _his eyes_. I closed my eyes, trying to push all the flashbacks away.

I slowed my breathing once more, I hated this. The in-between. The times were I was spared just so I could drown in memories, be eaten by hunger and thirst. The times were no one was here to electrocute, burn or cut me; yet I was still filled with an ebbing and aching pain. A pain that only went unnoticed when greater agony replaced it. I hated being left to wait, wait for the inevitable next visit of Dewitt, whilst I wallowed in flashbacks of his last visit. I hated being left with my brain connected to a body I no longer owned. How I was stripped of control and decisions; my life belonged to Dewitt, yet he let me have my mind. He allowed me to know I could not end my own life, I could not prevent them from inflicting pain. He let me hang here with that knowledge. That he controlled my outside, and with that he would soon get what I kept in.

I wallowed in my own misery and soon I felt my consciousness slipping. I forced my eyes open, trying to fight it. I didn't want to dream. My head leaned forward, and my eyelids grew heavier. I opened my eyes wide, resisting, but I could only fight my body for so long. My head dropped forward fully as I obeyed the demands of sleep, hoping that it would fulfill the promise of rest.


	12. Relentless

My eyes slowly blinked open as a small clicking noise filled my ears. My dangling feet came into focus as the haziness of sleep faded, though my mind remained blank. I looked up to the source of the clicking noise;

Dewitt stood just outside my cell at the four digit lock, switching between numbers as he punched in the code.

I stared at him, his features and clothing shadowed in the dim light of the corridor. He carried his duffel bag. I realized why he was here, but it took a moment for my still waking mind to realize what that meant.

I began to feel my heart beating in my chest, I bit my cheek and looked away, as if my not seeing him would mean he wasn't there. The image of a scalpel cutting into skin flashed through my mind, my chest and leg throbbed where the clamps pinched into them. My past screams seemed to echo in my ears, I trembled.

My head shifted from side to side, looking everywhere but Dewitt as I heard the lock chime with the correct code, the cell gate slide open, and Dewitt step in. My breathing quickened as I heard his footsteps advance and stop in front of me, I finally turned my head to face him. Dewitt stared at the gash in my arm, I resisted the urge to follow his line of sight. I didn't want to look at it anymore. I stared at his eyes, searching for any flicker of emotion, but I found none. His gaze was cold, unaffected. His eyes moved down to meet mine, my chest tightened as he looked at me. "That thing on your arm doesn't look too good, Timmy." Dewitt spoke. I clenched my jaw, anger cutting briefly through my fear. He knew exactly what it would look like, he let it happen.

Dewitt shrugged his duffle bag off his arm, letting it fall to the ground with a heavy thud. I tensed, remembering what was in it last time.

Dewitt stared into my eyes, measuring my fear. "This is the part where I offer you an easy way out," he said coolly, "but I feel like I've been more than generous with those propositions."

I dropped my head, _Generous. Yeah, you've been so fucking kind to me._

The irony failed to escape me, even if he was right.

Dewitt's voice hardened, "Give me Fontaine."

Fear tangled knots in my stomach, this was happening too fast.

I stared at the ground, feeling the tension rise at my silence. Dewitt crossed his arms, I shifted in my chains, then shook my head.

"Think about this Timmy." Dewitt warned. His foot nudged at the clamps that lay on the floor.

I stared at them, a sob formed in my throat. I didn't want him to pick them up again. I didn't know if I could take it.

I didn't want to _have_ to take it.

"What's wrong," Dewitt demanded, "cat got your tongue?" He stepped towards me and pressed his thumb into the gash in my arm.

Pain shot through my nerves and I cried out in agony, the hours of saltwater searing into the wound had made it so much more sensitive. Tears sprang in my eyes, my head fell back to a forward position as Dewitt stepped away from me.

The pain triggered flashbacks of Steinman doing the same thing. Flashbacks of his gloved hand hovering over my arm, ready to dig his thumb into the wound he had just cut into me. Of his scalpel pressed against my skin, and me; made to weak to fight him. I shuddered, afraid to look at Dewitt, because I felt that if I did, I would instead find Steinmen standing before me. My skin sparked with anticipation, expecting to feel his cruel, gloved hands on me once more.

Instead Dewitt picked up the clamps and banged them together in my face, I flinched, angling my head away from the cursed things.

"Where is Fontaine?" Dewitt demanded again, lowering his arms to his sides.

He didn't drop the clamps.

A quiet whimper escaped me, my body was trembling. I couldn't do this. I couldn't do this again.

"I'm getting a little tired of this one way conversation, Timmy." Dewitt said. Irritation creeped into his warning tone.

"Just kill me." It was after I spoke that I realized I was begging Dewitt. The defiance had faded long before the words left my lips.

"I'm not the one hanging in chains, Timmy." Dewitt retorted. "You're in no position to make demands."

I hung my head. "Please..." I pleaded softly.

Dewitt was silent for a moment.

"I'll kill you," he said. I watched his foot push his bag out of the way, as he stepped towards the crate with the battery on it. I looked up in terror, my breathing sped.

Dewitt leaned down slightly, but all he did was place the clamps down next to the battery. My tensed muscles relaxed slightly. _Not yet._

Dewitt stepped back in front of me. His hand fell to his waist, I watched as he pulled a pistol out of his belt and pointed it at my forehead. I stared into the barrel of the gun as Dewitt cocked it, fear striking through my body. _I want this_. I reminded myself.

Dewitt continued, "but how much you tell me decides whether your death will go something like this," he pointed the pistol closer towards my forehead, "or something like this." He pointed the gun at my left leg.

I began to shake, as terror steadily climbed inside of me. My nerves spiked in my left leg, anticipating the extreme pain. Dewitt fiddled with the trigger, I whimpered in fear.

He would let me bleed out. He'd let me bleed to death. I tried to imagine how much it would hurt. How long it would hurt for.

"Let's wake up." Dewitt said. He seemed to know I was trying to weigh the consequences. "For you to bleed to death, I'd need to hit the artery right in the middle of your leg. Now, pistol bullets are small, but they're fast." His hand gripped more tightly to the pistol. Fear kept my eyes trained to the gun.

"There's a chance I'll miss the artery, but I've got more bullets for that."

My breaths quavered, fear flowed through my entire body. I didn't want to hear anymore.

"It'll be up to ten minutes before you lose feeling, and when that time comes I'll shoot you again in your other leg." Dewitt pointed the gun at my right leg. A sob escaped me, "No, don't-"

"It won't be painless Timmy. Don't think for a second it won't be." Dewitt stared at me, his eyes said he would do it. He would shoot. I believed him.

"Where's Fontaine?" His tone was more of warning than question.

"Don't shoot..." I begged. "Please- please don't shoot me."

Dewitt's eyes flashed with anger, "You think I won't?"

I cowered in fear, terror digging through my gut. I glanced briefly up from the gun to his eyes as I shook my head. "No. I-" my quickened breaths disrupted my sentences, "I can't- don't shoot me."

"I'm not going to repeat the question."

"Please!" I begged, my voice rose in desperation.

"You don't believe I'm going to do it? Want me to give you a taste?" Dewitt aimed the gun down at my foot.

My eyes widened once again, terror made it feel like I couldn't breathe. My foot twisted around, as if I could dodge a bullet from two feet away.

I had never been shot before. I'd been threatened with a gun a few times, but then I had been able to move out of the way, to reason with the shooter. There would be none of that this time.

"Please Dewitt." My voice was weak with fear. "Don't do this, don't shoot me. I'm begging you... please. Don't shoot." I was shaking uncontrollably.

I looked to Dewitt, but his expression seemed to only grow angrier.

"This is your last damn chance."

My vision began to blur with tears as I looked away from him.

"Give me Fontaine."

My eyes locked to the gun. I opened my mouth, "I-"

But I couldn't say it. I couldn't finish.

I heard the shot before I felt it.

The large bang of the gun cracked against the cell walls, pounding into my eardrums, leaving me disoriented. When I was aware again I found my head had fallen against my chest, and confusion lengthened the millisecond my mind took to become fully aware.

Then came the pain.

It exploded inside of me, as if by a flick of a switch. It pierced at and filled my brain, I screamed in agony, tears began to pour from my eyes.

The gunshot wound felt like a red hot poker had been pushed into my foot.

I clenched my teeth against the pulsing pain, moans emitted from my throat with each rapid breath. Tears streamed down my face and I wailed in agony as the pain seemed to rise to its height again. My body shook from the pain, I whimpered at the searing sensation that came from my foot.

I felt the bite of my nails digging into the skin of my numb hands as I tried to fight the agony, to push it away. I tried to concentrate on breathing, my teeth bit at the inside of my cheek as the pain from the gunshot wound demanded my attention. I moaned in agony, the searing began to quiet. It did not go away, but it quieted. My stream of tears reduced to where only a few trailed down my cheeks.

My head lowered to my chest, weak after what had just been done to me. When my vision cleared of my tears I looked at my left foot.

There was a small hole in the middle of my shoe. Dark liquid spilled out of it and ran down the brown leather, dripping off onto the ground. I whimpered at the throbbing sensation.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Dewitt said.

Fear flared inside me at the sound of his voice, I looked away from my wound and from him, shivering.

 _He just shot me._

 _I'll never be able to walk again._

 _I'm never going to leave here._

A few stray tears trailed down my face.

"Ready to talk now Timmy? Or do you think you can handle another?" Dewitt aimed the gun at my leg, his tone was menacing.

I whimpered, misery and terror boiling in my chest. I looked at him, shaking in fear. "No, please... _please_. Please not again." My breaths were labored.

"Where's Fontaine?"

My head fell to my chest, "I'm begging you." I said quietly.

Dewitt sighed, lowering his arm and his gun towards the floor. He pulled back his jacket and tucked his gun back into his belt. I exhaled a shaky breath slowly in relief.

Then Dewitt stepped over to the crate beside me, picked up the clamps, and let them close onto the battery.

Pain shot through my entire body. I immediately began to writhe uncontrollably from the electricity, my handcuffs scraped against the pipes as my violently shaking body shifted them from side to side. I screamed in pain at the agony that rushed through my veins. It felt like someone was raking at my insides. My body convulsed and I continued to scream in pure agony.

Dewitt took the clamps off.

I sagged in my chains, gasping for breath. I moaned and whimpered in agony, tears streamed down my face as the pain still gripped at me. There was a taste of blood in my mouth.

My head had just begun to clear of the clouding pain when Dewitt turned the electricity on again.

My cell filled with my screams of agony, I shook violently, my flow of tears only making it worse. My head threw back at the pain that seemed to rip and shred at my body from the inside. Agony cut through any thought, digging inside my head, pushing its claws through me. The seconds felt like hours, I writhed in pain, wishing that it would end. My face contorted in agony, I continued to howl in pain.

The electricity stopped.

My head fell to my chest, moans and whimpers seeped between my disrupted breaths. My body shook with quiet sobs, the pain was unbearable, and it wasn't over. It would never be over.

I took in ragged breaths through clenched teeth. My eyes barely fluttered open, I thought I would pass out. My foot throbbed agonizingly, I felt so lightheaded.

"You done with your bullshit Timmy?" Dewitt asked. He was in front of me now, and he was still holding the clamps. "Cause I am done with having you run me in circles."

I forced my eyes to stay open, I didn't know what Dewitt might do to wake me if I passed out.

 _Probably electrocute me again._

I shivered, and the thought was enough motivation for me to raise my head. My eyes fearfully made their way to Dewitt's. He glared at me; I had nothing to show but misery.

"Were back at the crossroads, Timmy. You give me Fontaine and we'll let you out of these chains. Tell me now and you might be able to walk again. I'll get you a doctor to heal everything we've done to you. But if you continue to be difficult, I will make this day endless. I will do everything I can to make your life miserable and painful. I'll even bring Steinman back to finish what he started."

Fear coursed through my body at his threat, I was shaking in terror. I remembered what it was like for Steinman to dig into my skin, the unbearable pain as he tore it away from my arm. I didn't want to see him again. I didn't want to feel the texture of his gloved hands on my skin, I didn't want to feel the blade of his scalpel tracing down my neck. I squirmed at the memories,

 _Now what shall we do this time?_

"Don't bring Steinman. Please." I begged, I was so afraid I was close to tears. "Don't let him touch me, please... please don't. Don't let him hurt me again."

Dewitt raised an eyebrow. "That's all up to you. You refuse to cooperate and you can expect a visit from him next time."

"No-" My voice broke, "please." I pleaded.

"If you don't tell me, you might as well be sending your own personal invite." Dewitt said, his tone held no mercy.

 _If I told him there would be no Steinman. They would let me go. They would heal me._

 _And Fontaine would wait till all my wounds were almost healed, then he would take me and reopen all of them._

"Please Dewitt." I begged, "Don't do this to me."

Dewitt's glare didn't waver. He walked back over to the battery and held his hands right above it, pinching the clamps he held open. "If you don't give me Fontaine, I will leave the electricity on until I see your skin begin to bake."

" _No!_ " I begged. I struggled desperately against my handcuffs, pain flared from my foot and I cried out in agony. I stopped moving, tears trailed down my face. "Please. Please don't hurt me."

Dewitt brought the clamps even closer to the battery.

A sob escaped me, I shut my eyes, bracing for the pain.

I waited five seconds, then the buzz of the electricity filled my ears; the sound of my own screams followed.

I thrashed and twitched violently, my handcuffs scraped and rattled against the pipes. Agony shredded and tore at every part of me, red rimmed my vision as I watched Dewitt walk away from me and lean against a wall. I wailed in agony, tears streamed down my cheeks. Pain pierced through every part of me, the electricity clawed at my insides. It felt like millions of tiny burning needles were stabbing through my veins, through my skin, through my head. I shook in my chains, my foot felt like it was on fire. The blood that spilled from the wound drew the electricity, it shredded at the muscle, I screamed in pain. There was a raging fire under my skin. The electricity coursed through my blood vessels, pushing the blood cells to burst my veins. The pain bit as it felt more and more like heat burning into me, my vision dimmed from the agony.

 _Fontaine can do double._

 _Fontaine can do double._

 _Fontaine can do double._

The thought remained, a repeating warning, even though pain clouded my mind and cut through any intention. The reminder didn't make it any less painful, it didn't make me not want to do anything to stop the agony. But it remained, repeating over and over again, with each swell of excruciating pain. Black was seeping into my vision, and Dewitt had still not moved. My eyes rolled back and my still twitching head dropped as the agony became so intense it began to knock me out. I didn't fight it, if I could I wouldn't have, I couldn't take anymore.

My screams became more and more distant, but then I caught the sound of footsteps walking towards me. The crackling buzz of electricity stopped, and I slowly came back to consciousness. I moaned and whimpered at the pain, my body still twitched. I began to weep softly, at the realization that I was still awake.

 _This isn't over._

I watched Dewitt's feet move back towards the wall. He leaned against it and began to fish around in his pocket.

My eyes moved back down to the ground below me, tears still trailed down my face. I heard the sound of crinkling as I tried to avoid looking at the bullet hole in my foot. My eyes moved to Dewitt's feet, I watched as the wrapper of a Pep Bar slowly drifted to the ground. My stomach responded ravenously, growling as hunger dug at my abdomen. I sucked in a breath of pain. I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten.

"Hungry?" Dewitt asked. He took a bite of the Pep Bar.

I whimpered softly, _why did he have to do this to me?_

Dewitt walked towards me, I did not have the energy to lift my head. He stopped in front of me, I trembled before him.

Dewitt waved the bar under my nose. I smelled the sweet and saltiness of it, my mouth began to water instantly in reaction. I moaned as the nauseating hunger rose inside of me again.

I turned my head away from the smell, "Stop." I pleaded. I didn't recognize my voice. It was weak and hoarse from my screaming.

"Thought so." Dewitt responded, he took another bite. I was so hungry now. It dug inside of me, clawing for attention. I would not have been so intense if he hadn't reminded me.

But of course that had been his intention.

I hated how he could play me like a deck of cars. He knew what weaknesses I had and when to take advantage of them.

He knew how this game was played, and he knew how it played out.

"Do you want some?" Dewitt asked. He held the bar in front of my face again.

Yes! My mind screamed, the hunger was overwhelmingly strong. My hands and feet clenched at the painful sensation,

That was a mistake.

I screamed in pain at the agony that shot up from my foot. It engulfed me only for a second, but it still left me whimpering. My breaths were quick and heavy, I turned my head away from the smell of the bar once more, though Dewitt lowered his arm once he noticed what I had screamed about. Fresh blood now arose from the top of my shoe.

"The bullet's still in there, you know." Dewitt said, he tossed the bar he was eating on the floor behind him. My eyes followed to where it landed, Dewitt was just tormenting me now.

He kicked at my foot. Red rimmed my vision and I screamed in agony at the sudden horrible pain. "Though that's not the only reason it hurts." Dewitt finished.

"Please," I pleaded, "give it to me." My eyes had returned to the food left just out of my reach.

Dewitt glanced back at the half eaten bar on the ground, "Nah," he said, "it's dirty."

A small sound escaped my throat, I looked away. "Goddamn you." I mumbled.

Dewitt raised an eyebrow. "What was that?" He asked coolly. I looked back at him, but I was smart enough to know not to answer. I was too weak to be angry. I didn't want him to torture me again.

"I know you're hungry Timmy." Dewitt said. He stepped back away from me and turned towards his duffel bag. "And I most definitely know that you're thirsty."

My eyes followed as he crouched before the bag and pulled out two glass bottles full of water. He stood up and turned to me, "You remember what water tastes like?"

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to remember. Just looking at the water made my throat dry.

I opened my eyes as Dewitt put the bottles on the crate beside me, right next to the battery. I shifted fearfully when he did not move away from the crate.

"You know," Dewitt said, "this whole time I've been threatening to shoot you, when in reality, the most painful and slow death I can think of is to let you starve."

I stared at Dewitt, my breaths were rapid. A part of me tried to convince myself that it wouldn't be as bad as other things, but I knew that wasn't true.

"It takes most about three weeks to die of starvation," Dewitt told me, "though I'd give you about two, considering what you're body has to deal with." His eyes glanced from the gash in my arm to the hole in my foot. I shivered slightly.

"That's plenty of time to get the truth out of you." Dewitt said coldly. I whimpered softly, imaging Dewitt coming back for another week. Being tortured as I slowly died of hunger. I can't do this. I can't take this anymore.

 _Fontaine can do double._

The thought did not steel my nerves, it just filled me with misery.

My train of thought was interrupted as Dewitt grabbed a bottle of water off the crate and walked in front of me. He unscrewed the lid and tossed the cap on the ground, "Where's Fontaine?" He demanded.

Fear tightened its hold on my chest, I looked away, whimpering. "I can't- I can't tell you." My voice was quiet and weak. I looked back at Dewitt, "You know I can't tell you." Dewitt stepped towards me, I started shaking in fear. "Don't hurt me, please." I begged. Dewitt didn't say anything, instead he raised his arm and pressed the glass bottle against my lips. "Drink." He ordered, tilting the bottle upward so that the cool water hit my dry and cracked lips. I let the water fill my mouth. I hadn't had anything to drink but saltwater for days, I forgot how good water could be. It was cold and refreshing; I gulped down the liquid feverishly, pausing only when my lungs felt they would burst without air. I felt the liquid run down my esophagus and settle in my stomach. My hunger quieted down slightly, it felt so good to have something in my body.

Dewitt lifted the bottle and I jumped as he began to pour the remaining water over my face. I squirmed in my chains, the unexpectedness made the water shockingly cold. He raised his hand so that it spilled over my head and wet my hair. I shivered, coughing at the water I inhaled. The liquid fell onto my shoulders and dampened my clothes, but there was not enough left to drench me. I blinked some of the water out of my eyes, my confusion sparking fear inside of me. I didn't know why he poured water over my head, but I was sure it would only bring me misery.

Dewitt stepped back towards the crate and set the empty bottle down. "I'm giving you one more chance, Timmy, because I know I've put you through hell and I believe you can come to your senses."

Water dripped down my neck as my eyes drifted to the battery. I trembled as I suddenly realized what the water was for. "Why do you think I have a choice?" I said softly. I knew I was bargaining with the inevitable; I was made to suffer.

"I'm giving you a choice right now." Dewitt said.

A small whimper escaped me. I shook my head, "No you're not. Please don't do this to me." I begged. Fear was tightening around my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"You lie to me, then I hurt you." Dewitt said mercilessly. He picked up the clamps, "What's it gonna be?"

I struggled in my chains, "Please!" I begged, a tear fell down my face; it was warm against the coldness of the water. "Please. I can't take it anymore."

"That's not the answer I'm looking for."

"I can't give you the answer your looking for." I pleaded, my voice was drenched in misery and despair.

Dewitt pinched the clamps open and closed again. A sob escaped me, terror was boiling through my chest. "I'm begging you- please. I can't tell you. I can't tell you. Please don't torture me."

"That isn't going to work." Dewitt's tone was cold. He brought his arms toward the battery, the plea I screamed was cut off as Dewitt let the clamps fall onto it.

Electricity rushed through my skin like a rabid animal, brought alive by the water that had poured over my face and dampened my clothes. My body twitched and writhed, paralyzing me so that I struggled to open my mouth and scream. But once I had, howls of anguish poured from my lips. The electricity was burning and stabbing into my face and my neck, I screamed in agony. The pain was unbearable. _Stop_ , I begged, _please_. But no words came from my mouth, the only response was the cold voice that spoke amongst the searing pain in my head.

 _Fontaine can do double._

My body convulsed, as if I could shake the pain off of me. I couldn't. It dug it's burning claws into me, and they shattered, the scalding shards streaking through my skin. My screams grew louder as the seconds stretched on, and then the electricity stopped.

My head dropped to my chest, I closed my eyes, breathing heavily. I whimpered and moaned, the pain was not so quick to leave me. My skin still burned.

"Ready to talk now?" Dewitt demanded. I shuddered at his voice. Misery returned to settle in my chest, I did not lift my head.

"We're going to do this until I get the truth." He told me. I whimpered again. _Please_. I was too drained to talk. I was going to pass out if this didn't stop.

"Three," Dewitt grabbed the second bottle of water and unscrewed the cap, tossing the lid on the ground.

"Two," Dewitt put the now open bottle back down and picked up the clamps. I cried softly.

"One."

Pain rushed through me again. My body writhed helplessly. The burning needles stabbed through me, I screamed in pain, tears ran down my face. I saw Dewitt move from the battery, and for a second fear shot through the pain as I thought he was going to leave me like this again. But then he stepped towards me. I couldn't focus on him, but I watched as he raised something in front of me and lifted it over my head. I was filled with too much agony to be confused, writhing too much to beg him to stop, I just continued screaming. I belonged to the electricity now.

Then suddenly the pain became so much worse.

Water fell onto the top of my head and ran down my face, blurring the image of Dewitt before me. It seeped down through my clothes, but I didn't get to notice how far it drenched me, I didn't even feel the cold of the water before electricity rushed to meet it. Fresh waves of agony seared through me, ten times as worse as before. I screamed in pain, water poured into my mouth and into my lungs. Electricity seared at my lips and racked at my body, brought alive by the water that Dewitt had poured over me. It felt like I was drowning. I writhed as I tried to breathe through the water in my lungs. My body desperately tried to cough it out, but the electricity tightened it hold on me, refusing to let me do so. Fear mixed with pain as I shook in my chains, and gargled, choked sounds came from my throat. My vision swam with black as I felt my skin sizzle from the electricity. It raked at the gash in my arm and tore at the gunshot wound in my foot, I felt blood pour freely from the bullet hole. I was burning and drowning all at once. I tried to suck in air through water logged lungs, and finally my coughing fit escaped me. I hacked, water spraying from my lips, sending pain shooting down my neck and across my cheeks. Screams rose from my lips again at the relentless pain. The black swimming in my vision spread, I vaguely heard my screams begin to fade as my eyes closed. My body went limp, my head falling to the chest of my writhing body. I let the pain carry me away.

I rose slowly out of unconsciousness, the remains of pain rode in waves to welcome me. My neck was so stiff, I feared I would not be able to move my head again. The remnants of what the electricity had done still flared, and my foot throbbed agonizingly. I sucked in a breath, wishing I could crawl back to the dark where there was no pain, no memory, no Dewitt. I wanted to go back to the nothingness and never come back.

But already my eyes blinked open, the darkness drifting further away from my grasp. The clamps lay on the ground again, I moaned as I lifted my head up.

Dewitt was leaned against the open cell door, his duffel bag swung back over his shoulder. His stare caught my gaze. Misery bubbled up from the pit of my stomach, I looked away from his cold glare.

"You're awake." He said, pushing himself off the gate. "Shall we continue?"

I kept staring at the ground beside me, I began to shake in fear.

Dewitt laughed, "You wouldn't stay awake for more than a few minutes. Don't worry." He moved to the entrance to my cell. "I just wanted to remind you of next times visitor," I felt his stare burning into me, "I'll make sure to arrange things with Dr. Steinman."

I whimpered quietly, terror boiling in my chest. Dewitt stepped out of my cell, and after a few seconds I heard the sliding sound of the gate closing and the echoing footfalls as Dewitt walked down the cobblestone corridor. Relief did not rush through me, for each step he took away from me brought the looming pain closer; Steinman would not decline paying me a second visit.


	13. The Return (Part 1)

I cried out as a sharp pain flared from my foot, dragging me out of nightmares swimming with Steinman.

In each dream, he would bring his scalpel to my arm, and gradually press harder and harder until the blade was pushed into my skin. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't open my mouth. I looked frantically into his eyes, but his own eyes were not there. They had been replaced by eyes that were a piercing blue. Eyes that looked as cruel and cold as the harshest winter. The eyes belonged to the man with the flaming hand.

My gaze returned to the scalpel, only to see that the once glinting silver metal was now a bright, hot orange. I thrashed as he dragged the scalding knife down my arm, the blood that poured out sizzled from the heat and steam wafted from the cut. My skin burnt as he slit it, my body writhed, and all that I could make out was Steinman's echoing laughter.

I shivered, trying to chase the dreams away. My gunshot wound had woken me at least five times; but still when I fell asleep again I slipped into the same, repeating nightmare. My eyes felt heavy, sleep deprivation was taking its toll on me. My head started to lower to my chest and my eyes slowly closed; as I was pulled away I vaguely heard the echos of footsteps, but I was too far under to distinguish its place between dream and reality.

The chime of the lock brought me out of unconsciousness. My eyes slowly blinked open as I heard the sound of the gate sliding open, and as footsteps moved closer towards me I realized it must be Dewitt.

Dread drenched me like a bucket of ice water, fear settled in its familiar place in my chest. _Not again,_ I pleaded silently, _please not again._

I didn't lift my head, I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want to see his grim, cold expression telling me that his doings were my fault. I closed my eyes, my body was quivering. I wouldn't look at him if I didn't have to.

I heard a small intake of breath and then the footsteps stopped before me.

I felt the tears waiting beneath my eyes, as despair tied my insides into so many knots it felt like I couldn't breathe.

Dewitt did not speak, but I could just make out his shallow breaths before me.

 _He's waiting for me to look at him,_ I thought. _He's going to make me start this._

I opened my eyes slowly, my body was shaking now. Even my breaths quivered as my eyes slowly moved across the floor to where Dewitt stood.

But as I reached his spot in my cell the brown leather shoes of Dewitt where not standing before me. Long, slender black boots stood in their place.

I froze, confused. My eyes moved up from the ground, noticing first a long blue skirt, a white blouse, then a pale face I remembered very well.

It was her.

It was the girl who had stood beside the other Dewitt, the one who had opened the wall and showed me my dead body.

Her dark bobbed hair now hung down in waves past her shoulder, and her blue eyes that had once held a sad determination now were glossy and scared. A delicate hand covered her mouth as her eyes stared at the gash in my arm. The tears in her eyes glinted in the dim light.

 _I'm hallucinating,_ I thought. _Or dreaming._

I could clearly remember her telling me she couldn't save me. I asked her to end my suffering and she turned her back on me and walked away.

 _So why would she come back?_

"Oh my god..." The girl whispered, she sounded shocked and frightened.

She studied the rest of my arm, then tore her eyes away from the wound to look at the rest of my body. Her eyes moved over my face, and as she did she found my own eyes staring back at her. The girl's eyes widened, and she took a step back.

"You're awake." She said softly, almost as if she didn't believe it.

I looked down, trying to avoid the hole in my shoe. _You think he'd have the mercy to let me die?_

"You're not real." I told her quietly, my voice was choked with pain.

"Yes I am." The girl said gently. I shook my head, "No you're not," I closed my eyes again as my face contorted with fear and sorrow, "don't do this. I don't want to believe you. The water's gonna wake me up. And then Steinman will come and he-" my voice broke. "Don't make me hope, please." The girl's eyes were full of compassion, "I'm real, I promise. I can only promise you."

"Then why are you here?" I choked out.

The girl twisted her fingers together, "I couldn't get you out of my head... I- I left you here, in the mercy of him. The thought has been eating at me for days, I had to see what he'd done to you..." The girl's eyes filled with tears, "it's so much worse than what I expected."

It was my turn to glance at the wound in my arm, a yellow tint was now clearly visible around my wound, amongst the purpled skin.

I closed my eyes, trying to prevent the memories from replaying.

"Who did that to you?" She asked softly.

The thought startled me. I looked at her, "Don't you know?"

She shook her head, "No." she mumbled.

 _He's going to go through so much._

I shifted uncomfortably, inhaling sharply at the pain. "But... you told me that I'll never tell them. How did you know that?"

The girl searched my eyes, looking for a suitable answer. "Your timeline... it's been altered. This entire city's has been prolonged. Through the doors to different universes I see the past, you're always here, and you never tell. It's a constant. So I knew you wouldn't tell either."

I stared at the ground for a moment, letting her words sink in. _I'm always here. I was bound to be captured. But then, wouldn't she know about Steinman if it's already happened? Unless..._

"Does Dewitt torture me differently in each timeline?"

She seemed locked to my eyes, I suppose it was the only part of me that wasn't bruised or bloody.

"In every other dimension, you don't even know Dewitt's name."

My face flickered with confusion, "Then who is it?" I asked quietly, wondering why I wanted to know.

"Sullivan." She said, the words sounded forced, and her face was paler than before.

I remembered the other me, the one who hung dead, after being burnt alive.

 _In Steinman's place stood a man with black hair and blue eyes that were cold and unforgiving. He glared at me as he drew his hand of orange flames towards my arm._

 _But that wasn't Sullivan. That was someone else._

I looked back at her, "the... other me you saw, the one you went back to when you left. Who burned him?"

She began to twist her fingers together again, as if she didn't want to give me the answer. "Fontaine killed him."

My eyes widened, "Fontaine?" She nodded slowly, searching my eyes for my reaction.

My heart rate sped. The man with the flaming hand, how could that be him?

And yet I knew it was, the cruelty in his eyes were unmistakably the same, I had just been too blind to see it.

A sudden reality struck upon me, and I looked wildly to the girl. "Is he going to come for me?"

She twisted her fingers tighter. "I don't know."

Panic exploded in my chest, my breaths came in and out rapidly. I shook in my chains, a small sob escaped my throat. "Please!" I begged desperately, "Please don't let him hurt me."

Tears had filled her eyes at my outburst, her face was pained with sorrow. "Stop, Timmy, please. Please calm down. He's not going to hurt you."

I stared desperately at her, searching for the truth in her stare. "I felt it. I felt what it was like when Fontaine killed him. I can't do that again." Her eyes widened slightly, but her stare did not waver, "He won't, I promise."

"Please," I said again, "he burned me when... when Steinman came. I saw him. He melted the handcuffs onto my skin. I didn't even know what he wanted."

My eyes moved to my wrists, to check that it had all been a hallucination.

The girl followed my lead, she stared at my bloodied hands. "Those weren't you memories," she said softly, "and it's not going to happen to you."

I sagged in my chains, though my heart still pounded in my chest. I had no hope but to believe her, I so desperately wanted to.

"Who's Steinman?" She asked.

I shivered, staring intently at the stone below me. "My arm..." I mumbled, "he did that."

For a moment the girl was silent, then her voice came at almost a whisper, "Can I see?"

The thought brought a chill to my insides, "How?"

"I just need to touch your arm... it will help me focus on the part of the past I want to view," she looked earnestly at me, "can I?"

 _Your choice was the first thing Dewitt stripped you of._

I stared into her eyes, before I gave what was barely a nod.

She slowly lifted her pale and delicate hand from her side, and I saw the black latex gloves of Steinman reaching for my wound, ready to gouge his fingers into me. I struggled desperately, "Stop!" I screamed, the hand moved back, and suddenly it was the girl's hand again. I let my head fall to my chest, _I'm going crazy_. "I'm sorry," I whispered, "please- please don't touch me." My eyes moved slowly past the girl's feet to the crate beside her, and to the two audio diaries that leaned against it. "You..." my voice faltered as I stared at the device that held my screaming; I would have to remember it too. "you can listen to it. Just don't touch me, please."

"I'm sorry," she said desperately, her right hand was pressed against her chest; "I-I asked, I didn't mean to make you panic."

I took in a few deep breaths, nodding at her. The girl stood there silently for a moment as she turned towards the audio diaries. She looked at them, but didn't move. Her eyes moved between the two audio diaries, confusion arose in her face, but she didn't say anything. After another moment her voice came as quietly as possible, and she asked, "which one is it?"

I could see she hadn't wanted to, but that didn't mean dread didn't swirl up in my stomach again. This was too much, I couldn't even cover my ears. I had to listen to it.

"To your right." I mumbled, and looked down. I saw the girl crouch in front of them and reach her hand towards the button on the audio diary. It quivered slightly. I watched as her hand stopped before the button, the girl took a deep breath. I sucked in a breath too as her moment of hesitation ended and she pushed her hand forward.

The button clicked into place.

The light blinked.

The tapes whirled, and I heard my voice speaking from the box; "I can't tell you, I won't tell you... so get on with it."

The memory dug it's claws into me and pulled, I remembered Steinman stood to my left, his mouth curved into a smile as he listened to Dewitt and me. He listened but did not look, his eyes were transfixed to the wound on my arm, though he had only cut the framework of what he was going to do to me. There was longing in his gaze. Cruel longing.

Dewitt offered to let me go, but I refused, my defiance managing to ring clear despite the fear I knew gnawed at me. So Dewitt cut the nice act.

"I want to hear him scream."

 _I never would have said what I did if I knew what was going to come next._

The footsteps of Steinman played from the audio diary, as did the shifting of fabric, which could only be him removing his scalpel from his pocket. My body tensed, and I closed my eyes. I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to listen.

The audio diary played all the same, I heard my soft groan of pain from when he wiped the blood away from my cuts. There was silence, I counted the seconds so that my chest would not explode with anxiety and anticipation.

 _One._

 _He stood inches from me._

 _Two._

 _He smiled._

Three.

My scream arose from the audio diary, a sharp cry of agony. The girl jumped. I shuddered. She could not see what had happened, but I remembered. The terrible pain as he dug his gloved thumb into my wound and pulled back the flesh.

I was shaking, I knew I wouldn't be able to block the trauma once my stream of screams started, once he started pulling.

I heard my moan of pain as Steinman pinched into my flesh, and then I started screaming.

The girl jumped again and her shaking hand covered her mouth as my agonized cries played from the audio diary, mixed with my sobs of pain. My hands clenched into fists at the terrible sounds, the pain had been unimaginable, and the sounds of my screaming made that very clear.

I remembered a blurred world, drowned in my tears. Everything was grey and dark, except for my arm, where all I could see was a dark red. I remembered knowing I was screaming, but not being able to hear it. Now that I could I didn't want to, my chest tightened with fear so much so that I felt light headed. He wouldn't stop pulling. I remembered his relentless cruelty. My breaths were rapid and heavy as I listened, my eyes found the girl as she moved her hand away from her mouth and towards the audio diary. As her fingers touched the box her eyes widened and glossed over, and I knew she was seeing it too.

My screaming continued, it pierced through me as I stared at the gash in my arm, remembering him being there. "Stay still." Dr. Steinman growled from the recording, I flinched and a small whimper escaped me as I heard my screams rise from the audio diary, dripping with agony.

He tugged and yanked on my flesh, the blood was clear in my memory. Pouring from my arm, spitting as my skin broke away from my flesh.

I heard the clank of my chains as I fell back down into my handcuffs, after he had stopped violently wrenching at my skin. I remembered seeing how long the gash had become, and the pain and horrors overwhelmed me.

I closed my eyes and turned my head away at the sound of my vomiting, I gagged slightly myself.

My whole body was shaking violently, I found it difficult to breathe.

I could almost feel it, the pain as he continued to rip the skin off of me. My sobs and screams blended together into a sound that sent chills down my spine, my arm throbbed and the nerves in my wound spiked at the memory.

 _I don't want to listen anymore._

I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut, praying to hear the tape whirl to an end.

But my screaming wouldn't quiet, it pounded through my eardrums and ran along my shaking figure, stabbing at my brain till I wanted to scream back. I was having a panic attack. I was terrified, but then I was angry. I was angry at the girl. It was her fault, I went through that because of her, and she's making me remember it again. _Why can't she just leave me alone? Why the hell is she here?_

My fury swirled up, pulsing through my quivering body. I let it flow through me, and even though my screams echoed in my ears and I heard the sharp voice of Dewitt saying stop when it was far from over; I wouldn't let her drag me down into the depths of fear. I wouldn't let her reduce me to a quivering and terrified victim that I had become time and time again. She was no different from Dewitt, only she had no motive, she was torturing me mentally for fun.

I looked at her, seething.

From the audio diary, Dewitt shouted Steinman's name, a final warning, and Steinman stopped pulling. I remembered the feel of the wet strip of skin dangling against my arm and fear rose up in my chest again. I focused on my anger, letting it drown my fear; _she will not do this to me._

"You with us Timmy? Do we need Steinman to wake you up?"

 _She came here to see how weak I was, all she wants is to see how well she broke me._

My body slowly stopped quivering.

The girl gasped slightly and her hand shot out as she pressed the red button on the audio diary, stopping the tape.

I could not mask the relief that rushed through me when I knew I wouldn't have to relive any more traumatic memories.

I looked at the girl for her reaction, had she been closer, I'm sure I would have seen contempt in her eyes.

I stared at her as she stayed in her crouched position, frozen in place as she stared at the audio diary. There was a line where a tear had run down her face, I watched as another tear fell from her eye and trailed down the path. Her jaw quivered slightly.

 _Like you fucking care._

She shook her head slightly "I- I can't listen to anymore."

Anger flared up inside me, "What did you say?" I asked quietly.

The girl stood up and turned to me, her eyes were glossy and her face was full of sorrow. "He just stood there while that man, that man did something horrific and cruel to you. The blood and his smile and your screams..." the girl shuddered, "I don't want to watch anymore."

Fury coursed through my veins, " _I didn't get a choice!_ " I screamed at her. She stepped back, her face pained and fearful.

"Dewitt didn't let me choose. I had to go through all of it. I had to take it all."

"I'm sorry." She whispered, she sounded so guilt-ridden.

"No you don't get it!" I shouted, "they tortured me, and it was your fault. It was your fault! They tortured me because of _you_!"

The girl looked at me again, her expression shocked and confused.

"Why did you come here the first time? To help me? Well your Dewitt was right. He found out. He found the clamps lying on the floor when he hadn't put them there. He thought you were with Fontaine." I swallowed. "He wanted your names. I don't even know your goddamn name. Not that he would believe me." The girl's face was twisted with misery.

"I had to take that for you! You made me go through that!" My body quivered with anger, "I was cut and electrocuted and-" my hands and feet clenched as my voice rose, and I cried out as a jolting pain shot through me from the gunshot wound. My head fell to my chest and I whimpered as the painful throbbing in my foot increased. I breathed hard, clenching my teeth against the pain, _I have to stop doing that._

"What's wrong?" The girl asked, closer now. She must have rushed towards me when I had shouted.

Her eyes searched me for the source of my pain, "Timmy, are you alright?"

I didn't respond, only moaned in pain, I had upset the wound, and the waves and throbbing had become overwhelming. "What is it?" She asked, her eyes were full of worry and concern. "My foot." I mumbled. The girl looked into my eyes, I saw her fear, "What did he do to you?"

"He shot me." My voice came out almost at a whisper.

Her eyes went wide, "Oh my god." She breathed.

He eyes moved to my feet, and her body froze when she saw the hole in my shoe.

She dropped to her knees. "Jesus." I let my head drop to my chest, "It hurts..." I whispered. The girl stared at the hole coated in dried blood, her hand reached up, as if to touch my foot, then her fingers curled into a fist and she lowered her arm. "Timmy, I- I'm so sorry." Her voice caught, "I'm so sorry you had to go through that." I closed my eyes to block the memories that had come crawling up to the surface. "Please help me." I mumbled. I opened my eyes as the girl looked up at me, she took in a breath then nodded, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. "It needs to be treated."

She stood up briskly, then slowly turned around, her eyes moving to every corner and edge of the room. I followed her eyes, and as I watched the spots became grainy as she looked at them. My eyes widened in surprise. She turned past me and looked to the crate, in the clearer light I saw that its corner had been rimmed in a purple-ish circle, and within it the edge had been blurred by the graininess. I could just make out the rectangular tin that rested on the crate. " _There_." The girl whispered, she opened her fist and the purple rim shrunk then exploded open, white light flared from the crack. The purple rim had returned to its size and pulsed vibrantly. The part of the crate within it was now clear; a first aid kit laid on the edge. "What did you do?" I croaked, staring wide eyed at the object that had appeared out of nowhere. "I opened a tear." She said, she moved closer and slowly reached for the first aid kit. In the light of the tear I saw the thimble that covered her right pinky. The girl grabbed the first aid kit from the crate and the purple ring shrunk again and disappeared. "A tear?" I asked, staring at the first aid kit. "A doorway to different universes. Like the one with the body." The girl said as she crouched down on her knees. I swallowed and nodded, remembering my bruised, bloody face that hung limp and lifeless. "Sometimes I can reach through and grab things." She added, gesturing to the first aid kit.

The girl placed it on the ground beside her, flicked the latches open, and lifted the lid. She sifted through the contents, pulling out bandages, a small packet of wipes, a bottle of clear liquid, and a cloth. She placed them beside the kit. She turned back to me and paused, she began to wring her hands nervously. "Timmy," she said, looking up at me, "I'm going to have to remove your shoe, and it's probably going to hurt." Fear swirled in my chest, my breath caught as the girl gently grabbed the heel of my shoe. "Please don't." I pleaded, I didn't want this anymore. "It needs to be treated," she insisted, "the wound will only get worse."

"I don't care, please... I don't want any more pain." My voice wavered and my body began to tremble.

"The wound could get infected, if it isn't already, and you can't afford to lose anymore blood. I need to take your shoe off if I am to clean and wrap it." She still hadn't let go of my heel. "It doesn't matter. I don't want it. Please- _please,_ don't hurt me." I begged, fear pulsed inside me now. The girl froze, her eyes staring off behind me. After a moment she lowered her hands to her lap, they quivered slightly. "Please don't talk to me as if I were Dewitt." The girl whispered. "I am _not_ like him. I am not trying to hurt you, I am trying to help you. Please don't twist my intentions Timmy."

She stared at me earnestly, but the fear in my chest remained. I searched for a reason why, because I knew I could trust her; she was willing to help me. I trusted her, but still I feared her, and as I stared at her face I knew why. It was because she did remind me of Dewitt, despite the opposite scenarios. It was her eyes, they had the same blazing determination, I could see it, hidden behind the pity with which she looked at me. I shuddered. "You use my name like Dewitt." I told her, which I realized bothered me as I said it. The girl blinked, her eyes darted back to the audio diary, "I- I didn't mean to, Dewitt said it, so-" she stopped speaking as she realized how she sounded. The girl looked down, "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have. What can I call you?" I didn't speak for a moment, I forgot what it was like to be treated as if I had any say in the matter. "Timmy is fine, don't- don't worry about it." I mumbled. The girl nodded solemnly, "Thank you, I'm Elizabeth." I nodded in return, looking away. The girl- Elizabeth- didn't speak for a moment, but then her soft voice broke through the silence; "I want to help you, but I can't unless I take your shoe off." I closed my eyes, dread sparked inside me. Elizabeth continued, "it will only hurt for a moment, but I won't do it until you agree."

 _She's giving me a choice._

I repeated the thought, trying to work up the courage to let her. I knew she was right, the wound was only going to hurt more over time, she's was going to help.

I just didn't want the pain. I was terrified.

"Please Timmy," Elizabeth pressed gently, "you need help."

My breathing was shaky as I drew in deep inhales and let out deep exhales, trying to quiet my fear. _She wants to help me, not hurt me._ I closed my eyes and sucked in one last deep breath before I opened my eyes and looked to Elizabeth. "Okay," I mumbled quietly, "do it."


	14. The Return (Part 2)

My breathing quickened as Elizabeth gently grabbed the heel and tip of my shoe. My body tensed with fear and anticipation, she looked up at me, seeing how scared I was. "It will be over in a second." She said softly, trying to reassure me. I could only nod, my throat did not let any words form. I closed my eyes, praying for it to be over quickly. Elizabeth's grip tightened on the back of my shoe, then as I exhaled my final deep breath she pushed my foot up, allowing her to pull the back of the shoe off my heel. My wound sent a flare of agony shooting through my body in response, I screamed in pain, despite my attempts to prepare. My vision blurred, but Elizabeth didn't stop. She pulled the back of my shoe off my heel and the tongue pushed into my wound. I let out another sharp shout of pain then gritted my teeth in an attempt to counter it. Elizabeth slid the shoe off and my foot sank back to its dangling position. I sagged in my chains, breathing heavily. "Are you alright Timmy?" Concern filled Elizabeth's wobbly voice. I opened my eyes, looking to her. She seemed quite shaken herself. I gave a small nod, holding back the whimpers that formed in my throat. Relief crossed Elizabeth's pale face. "I'm sorry I put you through that. It will all be over soon, I promise." She looked back down at my wound, and I watched as her expression quickly turned from relief to worry. Her eyes widened as she stared at the wound, and her breath caught. "Is it that bad?" I mumbled quietly, it seemed as if the sound of the gun firing still echoed in my ears. "I... can't believe he would do this to you." Elizabeth said quietly, "It must hurt so bad." I swallowed and said nothing, I realized I could barely remember the time when my foot did not pulse and flare. I tried to not think about how Dewitt had actually crippled me, it served as a reminder that I could never be freed into my life again. I would not be able to walk out of my cell if he unlocked my handcuffs and opened the gate. I tried not to think that when he shot me, it shredded the last hope that I could ever be the same as I once was. I shoved the thoughts away, and I kept my eyes off my foot, for I knew once I saw it I would know I was going to die. I was going to die in these goddamn handcuffs, in this goddamn cell, in this goddamn city. Fear sent a shudder down my spine, as my thoughts darkened with despair, my body felt heavier. "The bullets still in your foot," Elizabeth softly spoke her realization, "isn't it?"

I shuddered, remembering DeWitt kicking my foot. _The bullet's still in there you know, though that's not the only reason it hurts._

"Yes." I said quietly to Elizabeth. She sucked in a breath.

"Why?" I asked quietly, "does that mean you can't help me?"

"I can help you," Elizabeth twisted the thimble on her pinky, "but not really. I can clean and dress the wound, but you need a doctor for it to heal properly." Terror shot up my spine. My body went rigid. "No doctors..." I whispered, "please."

Elizabeth looked up at me again, her eyes drifted over to the gouge in my left arm. "I'm not going to bring anyone to hurt you."

But that didn't answer the question, not really.

"You don't know what it's like," I said quietly, staring intently at one of the dark cobblestones on the floor, "to feel the texture Steinman's gloved hand on your skin, knowing he craves to cut and rip it off of you." I started to quiver slightly. "He wanted to carve out my cheeks," my voice sounded small and terrified, "and if Dewitt had let him, I wouldn't have been able to stop him. I would be too weak to fight him off. I could kick and scream for as long as I could, but in the end I would be the starving, sleep deprived prisoner whose hands were restrained. And he would be the man with the knife. And he would do it. He will do it, he's-" My voice failed me as I choked back tears. _He's coming back._

I looked up at her, "Please Elizabeth, no doctors." Her eyes locked with mine. She shook her head slowly, "No doctors, I promise."

Relief rushed through me, quieting my fear. My tensed body loosened, "Thank you." I said.

But the worry did not leave Elizabeth's face. "I can't make the pain stop," Elizabeth said, her voice wavered, "with the bullet in your foot it's never going to stop hurting, the wound is already getting infected, I'll try to stop it but... worse comes to worse it's going to poison you." Her voice grew softer as she spoke. Misery bubbled in my chest, I tried to quiet my despair; _lead poisoning is the least of your worries, you may not even live long enough for that to happen._ But that did not loosen the lump in my throat, and I dropped my head to hide the tears that welled in my eyes. _Why did it have to be me?_

"The best thing I can do for you now is clean the wound and stop the bleeding."

Elizabeth's hands curled into fists as she stared at the gunshot wound, then she dropped back down to her knees beside the first aid kit and my feet. She turned to the medical supplies she had laid out next to the box, picking up the small bottle of clear liquid and and a small cloth wipe. Elizabeth unscrewed the cap of the bottle, set the cap down, and slowly poured the liquid onto the cloth. I watched her nervously, "how much is this going to hurt?" My voice wavered at the tears I choked back. Elizabeth's face shone with sympathy. "It shouldn't hurt at all," Elizabeth tried to reassure me, "you're skin is going to be very sensitive, but I'll try to be as gentle as I can. The liquid is just to clean the wound, it's mostly water and shouldn't burn or sting." I nodded slightly. Elizabeth set the bottle down on the floor and shifted the wet cloth to her right hand. She pressed her left hand against the back of my foot and I flinched, fighting down the fear that flared inside me. "I'm not going to hurt you," Elizabeth assured me softly, but when I remained frozen in place, it wasn't because of my fear;

I saw it.

Dried blood caked my foot, hardened in their sporadic trails as they ran across the bulges in my swollen foot, standing like mottled, rolling hills of purple and yellow. My skin was so inflamed it had cracked apart, the concave lines of deep red traced all around my foot. In the center of it all was the crater. It's wall of shredded flesh pushed up and outward, as if something had clawed its way out of me, leaving a pus-ridden mess in the tunnel it had burrowed through. My toes clenched involuntarily and I cried out as blood rushed through the tunnel, pushing out pus along the edge of the crater as it flowed over the lumps of my skin.

I blinked back tears and looked away, but the image burned into my brain, branded in my memories even as I shut my eyes.

"Are you alright Timmy?" Elizabeth's quivering voice asked. I struggled to nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"I know you're already going through so much, but promise this will not hurt as much as you are expecting."

"I'm- I'm okay," I stuttered, my eyes moving to her face, "I'm sorry, I'm just... scared."

Elizabeth nodded understandingly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I tried to slow my breathing, calming my rapidly beating heart. Elizabeth pinched the cloth around two fingers, her left hand tightened on the back of my foot as she brought the cloth to the wound. I clenched my teeth to prevent myself from flinching or twisting my foot away. I kept breathing deeply, pushing down the fear that kept bubbling to the surface.

I tensed when I felt the cloth touch my skin, I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, struggling to ignore the discomfort from the slight pressure of Elizabeth's fingers. I opened my eyes again as she wiped the smeared and dried blood from around the wound. She did not rub vigorously at my skin, but the slight roughness of the cloth was so close to being painful that it made anxiety claw at my insides, to a point where I wanted to scream and beg her to stop. I fidgeted nervously at the sensation, and as the cloth went over the torn and cracked part of my flesh I sucked in a breath. "Sorry." Elizabeth said, she went over the outside of my wound one more time before she lifted her hand. The once white cloth now lay in her hand as a deep red, she folded it and laid it in the first aid kit. I could now see the gross yellow that colored the rim of the wound, my skin around it was a blaring pink, more from irritation or infection I could not say. "Are you alright Timmy?" Elizabeth asked softly. "Yes." I mumbled, and that was all I could give as a response. I feared that saying too much would cause her to hurt me.

A dull sense of relief settled over Elizabeth's face. "Good, we're almost through, but this next bit might be a little bit more uncomfortable-" she stopped as I stiffened in fear, "-not painful; I promise. The solution is almost all water. But I have to wash out the wound, and it might feel slightly... unpleasant." I felt little relief at her further explanation, my heart rate did not slow. She looked at me pityingly, "It has to be done Timmy, it will be over in a few seconds, it's nothing you can't take."

My eyes shot over to her as the words left her mouth. As I stared at her I realized she didn't mean what she said, but as I dropped my head again the words stirred inside of me, feeding the quiet pulse of anger into a roaring sensation.

"I have not been tortured by _choice_." I grit out, seething. "I am forced to take it, to endure all they have to offer because if Fontaine found out I broke-" My voice caught even in my anger, "you have no idea what Fontaine would do to me."

I could feel Elizabeth's eyes on me, whether with pity or remorse I could not tell.

"I'm sorry Timmy." Elizabeth said at last, her tone seemed sincere. "I- I'm sure I could never imagine what it must be like for you, and I never meant to demean your torment."

I looked into her eyes, the steel determination was still there, but her fear and sorrow shone true.

Her hands still quivered.

 _She's helping you. She's terrified and she's still helping you. If you keep getting angry at her she won't want to help you anymore._

I looked down quickly as another realization finally settled in.

 _You're going to make her angry too._

My eyes glanced over to the battery I was attached to, fear pulsed quietly but steadily within me.

I looked back at Elizabeth. "I'm sorry..." I said quietly, "you're trying to help me, and... I don't know what's wrong with me." My eyes slowly drifted back to the cobblestones on the floor. "Everyone who's walked through that gate has hurt me." Fear was clear in my voice. "I know you came to help, but I guess I'm just used to everyone I see being my tormentor and enemy."

Elizabeth's eyes were teary, her gaze full of sorrow. "It's not your fault Timmy, I shouldn't have said what I did. I didn't mean it. I was trying to bring you some comfort but... that was a horrible thing to say. You have every right to be mad at me. If I came here just to mock you, I'm no better than your torturers." Her eyes locked with mine to show me she meant it.

I could only hold her gaze for a moment. "I just don't want you to be angry with me. I- I don't want you to hurt me."

A tear ran down Elizabeth's face. "I would never hurt you out of anger, or... or anything."

I looked down and nodded slightly.

"You don't believe me." She said softly.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "it's not you. It's Dewitt, I've... I've been here so long," I fought back the lump in my throat and the tingling of tears behind my eyes, "I don't remember a time where I haven't been terrified."

"I cannot blame you for that, Timmy, that is not your fault..." her eyes trailed off, and it looked as if she was seeing something very far away, "Dewitt will pay for what he did, I promise." She continued to look past the wall of my cell, as if in a sort of trance. Her eyes darkened.

I swallowed, and as I looked at Elizabeth I knew I would never convince myself that I should not fear her.

Her eyes moved back to mine. "I'm sorry that I can only help you by causing you pain," she crouched back down to the ground, "if there was an easier way to clean the wound, I would do it, but I'm afraid this is the only way." Elizabeth picked up the bottle of liquid and unscrewed it, she delicately placed the cap on the ground beside her, and grabbed the back of my foot again. She gently pushed my foot up, and I sucked in a breath at the flexed position. "It's alright Timmy," she said calmingly, but she did not look up. She lifted the bottle above the wound and tilted her hand. I gasped when the line of liquid hit the inside of my wound, sending pain shooting through me. She continued to let the solution pour out slowly, it rose out of the inside of my wound in a clear dashed with yellow and red, then flowed out over the crater and down the side of my foot. The liquid felt like something was slithering within me, sliding through the inside of my flesh out through the opening of my wound. I whimpered. "Please stop." I pleaded softly.

"Just a little while longer," Elizabeth said.

My fists clenched and my head threw back as I counted the seconds, trying to distract myself from the pain. It was at eight that I felt the flow of water stop, and Elizabeth dropped her hand from my foot. I slowly lowered my foot back to its original position then sagged with relief, breathing deeply. I looked down at Elizabeth as I heard the sound of her screwing the cap back onto the bottle. Elizabeth looked up at me, "I know it doesn't feel that much better, but believe me, it would've gotten a lot worse in the next day or so." I nodded slightly, but all that registered with me was the cursed promise of tomorrow. I glanced back down at my bulging foot and saw the gunshot wound now glistened with solution, blood pooled in the tunnel burrowed through my skin, a true, clean red.

 _I'm never going to leave here._

Despair took hold of my thoughts, but before I could sink too low I heard the crinkling of plastic, and was pulled out of my daze. Elizabeth was unwrapping the plastic of something thin she had pulled out of the first aid kit. As she slid the thing out of the wrapping I saw that it was a gauze, of some sort of cotton material. "Now I just have to wrap the wound," Elizabeth said, "it may feel a little tight, but the pressure will stop the blood flow and keep it protected." She waited for my nod before she switched the gauze to her left hand, picked up the bandages and moved back over to my foot. With her left hand she gently placed the gauze on top of my wounds, lightly pressing on it as she held it in place. I tensed slightly, then with her right hand she draped the end of the bandage diagonally onto my skin, right before my toes. She began to wrap my foot over the end, securing the bandage. She kept the roll close to my foot and pulled it taut, I sucked in a breath as my foot flared. She rolled the bundle of bandages over my foot as she wrapped it around, ensuring that it remained tight. She reached the gauze and was able to secure it in place with the bandage, allowing her to wrap my wound with both hands. She made sure to not space out the bandage, Elizabeth went over my wound a few extra times, then she secured it by wrapping the final length of the bandage around my heel and tucking it under the strips to secure it. "Done," said Elizabeth. She breathed out slowly as she dropped her hands. I looked down at the wrapped wound. I could no longer see my swelling and discolored foot, only the clean bandage, a stark comparison to my dirty skin. I winced as I moved my foot, the bandage pressed into my skin, and already I could feel the throbbing.

But I could handle this if it meant I wasn't going to lose any more blood. I could handle it as long as Dewitt didn't find out. "Are you sure he won't find out? Will he see the bandage?" Elizabeth shook her head. "Your shoe will cover everything. He won't find out, I swear I won't let him." She turned in her crouched position and picked up my shoe, "this is the last thing I have to do, then it'll be over."

I nodded reluctantly, "Please be careful."

"I will." Elizabeth promised. I winced as she lifted my foot and slid the tip of my shoe on. She grabbed my heel and hooked her fingers in the heel of my shoe to lift it onto my foot. She let go and sighed in relief, "All done." I looked down at my foot. The hole in my shoe was too small to see the bandage through it, and my pant leg covered any bandage that might be potentially showing. With the dried blood still crusted onto my shoe it looked as if nothing had changed. My body loosened with relief, "Thank you Elizabeth," I said quietly, "thank you so much." Elizabeth looked up at me, tears began to well in her eyes, "It is my obligation to help you Timmy, I just wish I could do more." Her gaze drifted from my face to the gouge in my arm. "I could help heal you arm," her voice was filled with sorrow, "but then Dewitt would see, and... I don't want to cause you anymore pain." My eyes drifted up to her face and I started to nod when I realized something. My eyes widened, and I felt like pounding my skull in at how gravely ignorant I had been. " _Fuck_ ," I whispered, I let my head fall back, "no... fuck!"

"What's wrong Timmy?" Elizabeth asked hurriedly, "Is it your foot, can I help?"

I shook my head, my face contorting with fear and regret, "I know your name," I mumbled softly, " _I know your name!_ " I wailed. I looked back at her in a swift desperation, "Elizabeth, I can't- I can't take it for you. I can't protect you from Dewitt. Please don't make me." I felt my tears waiting to spring up, _why did she have to give me her name?_

"Timmy," she looked desperate to calm me down, "he won't find out that I came here, he won't ask."

I shook my head, my eyes filled with tears, "He could. He knows about you already. What if he asks, before I didn't know you're name, but now I do. I do." I looked at Elizabeth, "Do you see what you've done to me? I could- I could tell him, and he'd stop hurting me," a tear rolled down my cheek, "and you've helped me but... please don't make me lie for you. Please- I don't want to, I can't take anymore." Elizabeth stood still and silent for a moment, her flashing thoughts shone through her eyes. But in the end, it was the steely determination that settled back in her gaze. "You can't give Dewitt my name." She said quietly, but her stern tone shone true. A whimper escaped my throat, and I looked away as another tear fell down my face. "Please Elizabeth, please don't ask this of me," I begged her, "you have to understand. You- you listened to the audio diary... you heard it. I can't do that again. I can't take it for you. Please... it's not fair... it's not fair." My face twisted as more tears fell down my face. I looked to her, I could see the pity in her face, yet her eyes were unwavering. She would not change her mind. The sound of Dewitt striking the clamps together echoed in my ears, _it is going to happen again._ I let my head fall to my chest as my desperation turned to despair.

"You don't know what it's like to hang here knowing he's coming back." I said quietly. I stared at the ground, my body shook slightly. "You don't know what it's like to not be able to forget because he's everywhere. There when you close your eyes, there in your skin." My head tilted in the direction of the gash in my left arm, before I turned my head away. I looked up at Elizabeth. "You don't know what it's like to know you could stop them from..." I swallowed, "from hurting you, but you can't-" my voice broke, "so... so you have to let them." Elizabeth twisted the thimble in her pinky as she stared at me, tears filled her eyes. After a moment her hands fell back to her sides and she straightened, "You can't tell him my real name, but you can give him a fake one."

I swallowed, "I don't know if I could lie to Dewitt when he's... he's..." another tear fell from where it pooled in my eyes, "I- I don't know if he'd believe me, what if I told him and- and he hurt me anyways, I don't think I could keep lying."

"You have to," she said quietly.

I shuddered, holding a sob from escaping my lips. "What should I say your name is?" I asked.

"Anna," she said, something grim flickered in her eyes, "tell him my name is Anna."

"Anna," I repeated quietly. I stared at the floor, could I really hold the lie if he kept torturing me?

 _She helped you._

The voice shut out my other thoughts. _Elizabeth helped you and if you give Dewitt her name he's going to hurt her too._

 _She doesn't deserve to hang like you do, you owe her this._

I quivered and my breath trembled, but I nodded to myself.

A silent promise that I would not make her suffer as I had.

Elizabeth studied me, "I know how much he's hurt you, but you can't give him my name, I'm sorry, but you can't." I nodded, my breath shook, "I understand, I won't tell him, I promise." Elizabeth stares into my eyes, then after a moment she nodded. "I trust you Timmy."

I nodded and looked down, I didn't feel a thank you was deserved.

And I couldn't exactly say the feeling was mutual.

My eyes drifted over to the damp stone wall beside me, "Are you going to open up the tear again?" I asked quietly, remembering the pain it brought me. Elizabeth glanced at the wall as well, but she shook her head. "I don't expect to be leaving soon, I came back to your city to finish something." Her eyes narrowed at her thoughts and she turned her gaze back to me, "I promise," she said seriously, "I will make Dewitt pay for what he's done." I broke her gaze once again. _I don't want him to pay, I just want to be free._

My stomach suddenly growled, and I hunched over as much as I could as the nauseating sensation washed over me. A small whimper slipped through my lips as the hunger dug at me, refusing to let me suppress it.

"Are you alright Timmy?" Elizabeth concerned voice rang in my ears, "I'm-" I moaned slightly as a wave of pain rolled over me, "I'm fine." I let out deep shuddering breaths, pleading silently for it to pass. Instead it only clawed at me with sharper persistence, I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes, knowing there was nothing I could do but wait it out. "What's wrong?" Elizabeth insisted, searching me for any source of pain. "I haven't eaten-" I winced, "I haven't eaten anything for over a week, the hunger is-" I grimaced again as it churned achingly within me, my eyes drifted over to the Pep Bar Dewitt had left on the ground. "Elizabeth?" I asked softly. Her eyes moved up to mine again, a worried expression still shone through her face. "Please, can you give me the bar over there?" I nodded my head at the ground to my right, where it lay in its wrapper. She turned towards it, bending down to carefully pick it up. She inspected it more closely, "You can't eat this Timmy, it's dirty."

Her words triggered a memory of misery in my gut, I closed my eyes. A quiet whimper escaped my lips as I tried to block the memory of Dewitt saying the same thing. " _Please Elizabeth,_ " I begged quietly, "please, I'm so hungry."

"I will get you food," Elizabeth said, "you don't have to eat what Dewitt used to bait you." I opened my eyes and looked at her. "I can go get you food at the farmers market. It will take no time at all, I promise." I glanced behind her to the open cell door, what if she just leaves? Elizabeth seemed to see my worry. "I will come back with food. I'm not going to leave you here, I promise." I looked into her eyes, finally I nodded. "Please hurry," I said softly. Elizabeth nodded. She stepped back from me and turned to walk out my cell. As she hurried down the corridor my stomach growled again, but I hoped that soon the pain would not be so great, I only needed to wait a little while longer.


End file.
